Lowell, The American .... . . . Janet E. Davidson, '92 . . . 399
The World's Sleep . . . '. . . . S. C. W., '95 ,■ . . . 410
Little Meenie . . ». - . . . . Agnes L. Caldwell, '96 . . . 410
Sunset . . . .*."._. . . M. H. McL 415
Margie . Florence McMahon Painter, '97 . 415
My Brother's Fiancee Cornelia Park, '96 . . . 418
A Problem . . . ., ' . . . . Joanna Parker, '96 . . . 422
Sketches . . . . . . . . Winifred Watson, '96 . . . 422
To the Board Walk . . . .• Katharine Fackenthal, '95 .->' . 424
A Sensitive Plant Mabel A. Carpenter, . . . 424
At Nightfall Constance L. Bothschild, '96 . 428
Beauty as Found in Spenser . . . Annie K. Tuell, '96 . . .■ 428
A Girl I Know Edith Orr, '98 . . . .' 433
Lake Dunmore . . .' . . . Anna- M. Bingham, '97 . , '.,^ 433
Editorials .* '434
Free Press ' "; 436
Exchanges . 439
Society Notes . 442
College Bulletin 444 '
College Notes 444
Alumna Notes 447
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The Wellesley Magazine.
Vol. III. WELLESLEY, MAY 11, 1895. No. 8.
EDITOR IN CHIEF.
MARY HOLLANDS MCLEAN.
ASSOCIATE EDITOR. MANAGING EDITORS.
JOSEPHINE H. BATCHELDER. ALETHEA LEDYARD.
ELIZABETH A. STARK.
AGNES L. CALDWELL. MAUDE R. KELLER.
MABEL A. CARPENTER. ANNIE F. WILSON.
MARY HEFFERAN. MARY WOODIN.
The Wellesley Magazine is published monthly, from October to June, by a board of editors
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LOWELL, THE AMEEICAN.
" Our souls grow fine
With keen vibrations from the touch divine
Of noble natures gone." — Lowell.
As lovers of Lowell, we have such a personal feeling of friendship for
him, that it is well-nigh impossible to put ourselves into the critical attitude
with the microscope in one hand and the scalpel in the other ; and on being
asked to write of him we feel as we do toward our dearest friends — we like
him so much that we have never a word to say for him. That is our first
sensation. Then, having chosen a theme, and narrowed our field of vision
to Lowell as an American, we begin to realize that it is a piece of real self-
sacrifice to limit ourselves to but one phase of this many-sided man, who
was at once poet, scholar, and man of affairs ; who could understand the
gossip of the birds and read the mystical signs of the seasons ; who could
sound the note of freedom with a " dolorous and jarring blast," or write
with words of "honied ease" of the birds and flowers, who were his
"happy peers"; who could tip his arrows with the keenest, kindliest
satire, and could never resist the chance for a pun or a rollicking bit of
fun ; and who did it all with a Yankee handiness, a «;race, and ease that
400 THE WELLE 'SLEY MAGAZINE.
belonged peculiarly to himself — the most all-round man of letters that
America has yet produced.
But on sober second thought, the theme, "Lowell, the American-,"
seems most comprehensive, for it is on his Americanism (in the broadest
sense of the word) that Lowell's fame is to rest. Bryant had the same
spirit, but without Lowell's fervor ; Whittier was American to the core, but
his special stress was upon the brotherhood of man ; Holmes is racy of the
New England soil, but we remember him most as the master of light verse
and the poet of occasions ; Longfellow is more bookish and English in his
inspiration ; Emerson stands more for pure thought. But patriotism is the
passion of Lowell's poetry, and America is the theme of his noblest verse.
He seemed to draw his inspiration from the soil whose product he was, and
into which he had struck roots "two centuries deep " through a long line
of Puritan Lowells. Whether laboring for American scholarship and the
purity of American speech, or by "Biglow Papers" provoking " the world-
wide laugh " that was to shake half
" The walls of slavery down ere yet the ball
And mine of battle overthrew them all,"
as Dr. Holmes phrased it, a year or two ago ; or representing his country
at our " Old Home" in such a way as to make our English cousins respect
us (I had almost said, love us), he was merely translating into life and
action his ruling motive — that love of country which could inspire the
impassioned stanzas of the "Commemoration Ode": —
" O Beautiful! my Country! ours once more!
Smoothing thy gold of war-dishevelled hair
O'er such sweet brows as never other wore,
And letting thy set lips,
Freed from wrath's pale eclipse,
The rosy edges of their smile lay bare,
What words divine of lover or of poet
Could tell our love and make thee know it,
Among the Nations bright beyond compare?
What were our lives without thee?
What all our lives to save thee?
We reck not what we gave thee,
We will not dare to doubt thee,
But ask whatever else, and we will dare! "
THE WELLE SLEY MAGAZINE. 401
Only the good fairies visited Lowell's cradle, and they had all manner of
good gifts to bestow, — a noble ancestry, a poetic temperament, a happy child-
hood, a congenial home, and a pure social life. Add to this his birthright as
an American, the famous New England conscience, a ballast of common sense
and a love of freedom, and we do not wonder that the product was an
enlightened, nineteenth centuiy Puritan. Lowell likewise put in a claim to
the intellectual achievements of England, taking Shakespeare for his own,
and insisting that New England had a much better right to Milton than
England itself, thus addinsr much to his inheritance.
Lowell's education — aside from that he 2,-arnered like a bee from the
wild flowers of sweet Auburn, and the dandelion on his lawn, to whom he said,
"Thou art my tropics and my Italy" —
was gleaned from his father's library, and by " reading all the books he came
across except those prescribed by the Harvard curriculum." He was
suspended from college (for not attending Chapel services held at sunrise !)
and was not allowed to read his class poem at commencement, but, true to
the student nature, ch'cumvented "the powers aboon"by riding down from
Concord in a covered wagon and peeping through the curtains at the
ceremonies. But he bore no grudge on this account, and was always proud
to be a son of fair Harvard ; and said of his college days, " Never were eyes
so bright, never had wine so much wit and fellowship in it, never were we
ourselves so capable of the various great things we have never done."
When the time came for the choice of a career, he wrote to a college
friend, "Above all things I should like to sit down and do something literary
for the rest of my natural life." But a literary career was something
unknown in those days. America had no literature, and no leisure in which
to cultivate one. Law was, therefore, decided upon, in the lack of a decided
bent for anything save poetry, and we hear of the father exacting a promise
from his lisfht-minded son to write no more verses, though it was hard
enough to vacate Musis, " the swate, deludering creeturs." The next letter
says, " I intend to study law, and probably shall be chief justice of the
Though this prophecy was unfulfilled, we think he has a nimbus radiant
enough for any saint. He kept at law long enough to write a story entitled
"My First Client" (so that he must have had at least one), and then we see
402 THE WELLESLEY MAGAZINE.
him scampering after the muse again, that " lithe, perpetual escape." But
if the muses played the part of gay coquettes with him, his tenth muse, his
humor, never played the deserter, and was soon to stand him in good stead.
It is interesting, as showing the trend of Lowell's mind, that his class poem,
which he afterwards referred to in these words,
" Behold the baby arrows of that wit
Wherewith I dared assail the woundless Truth !
Love hath refilled the quiver, and with it
The man shall win atonement for the youth,"
was a satire upon the Abolitionists and Transcendentalists ; and that while
under discipline at Concord, he first met Emerson, whom he characterized as
" a good-natured man, in spite of his doctrines." In later years he was only
too glad to own his debt of Gratitude to Emerson, signing; his letters, "Your
liegeman," and paying him such tributes as this, "He is as sweetly high-
minded as ever, and when one meets him the fall of Adam seems a false
Dr. Lowell had said once to a guest upon Lowell's absenting himself
from family prayers, " No, James is not serious yet, but he has a good heart,
and is the foe of every mortal wrong." Gradually his opinions changed,
until he proved himself the foe of at least one mortal wrong. The first note
is in a poem written two years after leaving college.
"Proprieties our silken bards environ;
He who would be the tongue of this wide land
Must string his harp with chords of sturdy iron,
And strike it with a toil-embrowned hand."
The next is in a letter: " My wings were never so light and strong as
now. So hurrah for a niche and a laurel ! I have set about making myself
ambitious. But I only mean to use my ambition as a staff to my love of
freedom and man." But there were still unimagined chords to be struck.
The young poet, who in the first happiness of an inspiring love has, like " the
musing organist," been building
" A bridge from Dreamland for his lay,"
now draws nearer to his theme. He is still but twenty-five years old, but
he has not forgotten that his grandfather, Judge John Lowell, was the author
of the antislavery clause of Massachusetts' constitution, and soon we hear
THE WELLE SEE Y MAGAZINE. 403
the stirring, rousing words of " The Present Crisis," which sound like noth-
ing' so much as the burning exhortations of the prophets of Israel, and which
cannot be read to-day by the younger Americans, to whom the slavery con-
test is but an echo of the past, without a thrill of new devotion to their
fatherland. Lowell was the last man one would expect to come out of his
cloistered retreat to be jostled by the crowd ; but "the Puritan drop in his
veins" had rebelled, and one after another the reform poems appeared, each
to add its influence in driving Public Opinion into a corner.
Lowell's poems of the war, covering a period of twenty years, from the
"Stanzas on Freedom" to the greatest of them all, the "Commemoration
Ode," are now, thanks to American school readers, well-worn; but there is
in them, as there is in a poem like "Sir Launfal," something which appeals
to those for whom the giant minds, Homer, Dante, or Milton, have no voice,
— " a striking on the heart," to use Hazlitt's phrase. When the nineteenth
century is called to account by the generations yet to be, I think that the
one great achievement that will be set down to the glory of America will be
the abolition of slavery ; nor will the name of Lowell be forgotten for his
share in it. The gun that he used, — as good as Grant's guns, in its way, —
was the old-fashioned flint-lock of his ancestors, with a long range, and his
ammunition the very old-fashioned notions of freedom and justice ; but like
"the embattled farmers" at Concord, he "tired a shot heard round the
Lowell said once, "I know Yankee, if I know nothing else." "I am
the first poet that has endeavored to express the American idea, and I shall
be popular by and by ; only I suppose I must be dead first." That he did
know Yankee he has proved by " Biglow Papers" ; and before his death he
became so popular that he once threatened to employ a professional forger to
answer his requests for autographs, and declared his intention of migrating
to Scarborough, Maine, from which place a letter had been forwarded to him
with the postmaster's inscription, "No such party known here." That
Lowell was able to cast the Yankee, who had previously appeared only as a
caricature, into an enduring mould, is his best gift to American literature.
For two centuries New England had no poetry. It was all pulpit and strug-
gle in those days, and the sturdy Puritans were too near to sec the poetry.
"Biglow Papers" had all the unconscious drollery of the Yankee, and
404 THE WELLE SLEY MAGAZINE.
back of it his moral earnestness. They were not humorous for the sake of
raising a laugh, but to save a nation. This unique kind of satire, this
earnest humor, if I may use so incongruous a word, is a plant indigenous to
New England. The letters of Hosea Biglow, backed by " the swal lei -tailed
talk o' the parson," filtered through the masses, showing up the rents in the
specious antislavery arguments, till, little by little, the whole country was
aroused, and Lowell awoke one morning to find himself famous. "I was a
little startled," he said, " to read my name in the list of great satirists, and
don't feel quite sure how they will take it." Holmes said, after reading the
first volume, " It made me wriggle all over." That was precisely the effect
upon the people, but it aroused at the same time a sense of national right-
eousness. Such verses as these could not fail of their purpose : —
"Massachusetts, God forgive her,
She' s akneelin' with the rest, —
She, that ought to ha' clung forever
In her grand old eagle nest."
; The North hain't no kind o' hisness with nothin',
An' you've no idee how much bother it saves;
We ain't none riled by their frettin' an' frothin",
We're used to layin' the string on our slaves,' "
Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he;
Sez Mr. Foote,
' I should like to shoot
The holl gang, by the gret horn spoon,' sez he."
' The mass ought to labor and we lay on softies,
Thet's the reason I want to spread freedom's aree;
It puts all the cunninest on us in office,
An' reelizes our Maker's orig'nal idee,'
Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he;
'Thet's ez plain,' sez Cass,
'Ez thet some one's an ass;
It's ez clear ez the sun is at noon,' sez he."
And these upon cowardly politicians and time-serving editors : —
" Ez to principles, I glory
In hevin' nothin' o' the sort;
I ain't a Wig, I ain't a Tory,
I'm jest a candidate, in short."
THE WELLE 'SLEY MAGAZINE. 405
"Ain't it belittlin' the Good Book in all its proudes' featurs,
To think 'twas wrote for black, an' brown, an 'lasses-colored creaturs,
Thet couldn' read it ef they would, nor ain't by lor allowed to,
But ought to take wut we think suits their naturs, an' be proud to ? "
Besides crusading against slavery, " Biglovv Papers" has preserved the
]Se\v England dialect in all its purity, as Burns did the Ayrshire speech.
They are the great classic on the New England idiom, which was so familiar
to Lowell in his childhood that it seemed his natural speech.
" I ken write long-tailed, ef I please,
But when I'm jokin', no, I thankee;
Then, 'fore I know it, my idees
Run helter-skelter into Yankee."
"An' yit I love th' unhighschooled way
Ole farmers bed when I wuz younger;
Their talk wuz meatier, an' 'ould stay,
While book froth seems to whet your hunger."
The second series has not the intense feeling of the first, but it has more
permanent qualities as poetry. "The Courtin'," that perfect Yankee idyl,
is fitted to stand with a Bucolic of Virgil, or Burns's "Duncan Gray cam
here to woo." Its atmosphere is
"Like a holsome hayin' day, thet's warm but isn't sultry."
It is a bit of old New England "caught in the magic of speech," and is like
the pungent, savory odor of the herbs in a New England garret.
"Sunthin'in the Pastoral Line," has less of the " dreffle smartness"
and argumentativeness of Hosea Biglow, and more of the potent imagination
and subtlety of Lowell. It has something of that "warm glow, blithe
movement, and soft pliancy of life," that Arnold ascribes to the Attic style.
Here is a bit from his description of the halting New England spring : —
"For half our May's so awfully like Mayn't,
'Twould rile a Shaker or an evrige saint;
Though I own up I like our back'ard springs,
Thet kin' o' haggle with their greens and things,
An' when you mos' give up, 'uthout more words,
Toss the field full o' blossoms, leaves, an' birds;
Thet's Northun natur', slow an' apt to doubt,
But when it doos git stirred, there's no gin out! "
In nothing is Lowell more American than his love of nature ; not that
to love nature is solely an American trait, but that he loved our common,
40(1 THE WELLESLEY MAGAZINE.
everyday home scenery, brooks, meadows, and little hills, — scenery we pass
without notice to go in search of a Niagara, Pike's Peak, or a Yosemite.
Lowell found a beauty in the Charles, " crooning his poems " to the meadows,
— and in Beaver Brook, as it
' ' Floods the dull wheel with light and grace,
And, laughing, hunts the loath drudge round " ;
in "the dear patient oxen, who, as they wallow along through the furrows,
are the only good commentary on Virgil's Georgics " ; in " the balancing of
a yellow butterfly over a thistle bloom," which provides him " spiritual food
and lodsfino; for a whole forenoon." He was as familiar with the vernacular
of nature about Elmwood as with the Yankee dialect. " I love Nature," he
said, " not to be always on her high horse and with her tragic mask on."
All the birds were friends to him ; and he would do anything for his
friends, so we do not wonder at this : "I am turned contractor of hammock
netting for the orioles, taking my pay in notes. I throw strings out of the
window, and they snap them up at once. They sit in the cherry tree hard
by and warble, ' Hurry up ! hurry up ! ' I never found out before that this
is what they first say. A vulgarism, I admit, but native."
He always has a good word for winter, and likes the sort of a day that
" would gladden the heart of a polar hear" ; a day when "the thermometer
is four below zero, and the whole earth is shining in the sun like the garments
of the saints at the resurrection" ; a day when " the world looks like a lamb
in white fleece (though some of us know better) ," — " a long stretch of snowy
peace, with no track of the interviewer's hoof in it."
The change of the seasons, the whimsical freaks of the weather and sky,
were a constant delight to him, and more entertaining than a romance. He
never tires of the subject, and makes so commonplace a thing as New England
weather full of piquancy sometimes, as in this : "I am in Boston, and it is
a rainy, dull day, such as we Americans, when we are in London, swear we
never have in America. But we brought this wet with us from the Old Home,
and have improved upon it, of course. When it rains here 'tis after the
reckless fashion of our people, as if we would spend all at once. None of
your effete-monarchy drizzles such as you have in London — penurious as the
last drops from a washerwoman's wringing."
THE WELLE SLEY MAGAZINE. 407
The poet nature was strong in him, though for many years it had little
outlet, and he says of himself, "I was born to sit on a fence in the sun,
if I had my way, in those latter days of May when the uneasy bluebird
shifts his freight of song from pillar to post, and the new green of spring is
just passing from the miraculous into the familiar." His delight in nature
was not like Arnold's, finding in it a consolation and sympathy for human
sorrow, but rather like Chaucer's, pure, like that of a child, happy and con-
tagious, making one echo his lines in " Sir Launfal,"
" 'Tis as easy now for the heart to be true,
As for grass to be green or skies to be blue, —
'Tis the natural way of living! "
When Leslie Stephen first saw Lowell, in 1863, in his retreat at
Elmwood, he thought him a complete specimen of the literary recluse.
Few of Lowell's friends then suspected his possibilities as a public char-
acter, nor did he himself. When the position of English Minister was
offered him he said: "You can fancy how many of our countrymen are
speedily convinced that I am wholly unfit to represent the great Republic
— and all of them pass through London ! But, after all, the Senate hasn't
confirmed me yet." However, the Senate did confirm him, and all know
with what high seriousness he fulfilled his trust, and how he took England
by storm. Though he insisted that he was not of the stuff that lions are
made of, and loathed public speeches, he had to submit to being lionized,
which he did with a good grace, and had to punctuate his days with
speeches, which proved morsels just suited to London's palate, long sur-
feited with English dullness, and ever on the watch for something piquant
and new. His savoirfaire, his charm and tact, and his instinct for avoiding
dangerous pitfalls, were partly the reasons for his success.
But most of all was Lowell a success because he was true to himself
and his country. AVhatever he may have left behind, it certainly was not
his household gods, and, as Henry James said, his patriotism was the article
in his luggage most ready to his hand. The London Spectator has called*
Lowell the ambassador of American Letters at the Court of Shakespeare ;
but he was more than that. In his speech on Democracy at Birmingham,
he proved himself the ambassador of the American Republic to English
408 THE WELLE SLET MAGAZLNE.
Monarchy. He was never afraid to uphold the ideals of that country to
whom his highest thoughts had ever been dedicated. England honored
him for this, and by it he added much to our moral credit as a nation.
Canon Farrar, at the service in memory of Lowell at Westminster Abbey,
said, •' He was one of the sacred unions that bound England to America
We have said that America was Lowell's inspiration. It remains for
us now to discover what kind of a goddess he worshipped. Lowell was
not a politician in the ordinary sense of the word, but he was a politician
of the higher sort, who is something more than a partisan. In politics, as
in religion, he was an independent, — a conservative. He did not believe that
the bottom was ever likely to drop out of the world : and near the end of
his life, when his dreams were over, said, "I have still the same confidence
as ever, impudent Yankee that I am, in the sense and nerve of the people."
He did not believe that America was great merely because she was bi<Z", and
had a tine contempt for American boasting and vanity ; he did not believe
that America had a patent on Democracy as her own invention, nor did he
think it would " go of itself any more than the perpetual motion."
Indeed, he went farther than that ; he boldly asserted that democracy
was no more sacred than monarchy — that it was man who was sacred. He
did not think America the only country on the globe, but recognized our
inheritance from older lands. I think he had a special fondness for anything
that had roots, whether a tree or a belief, prizing as he did " whatever helps
to 2ive continuitv to the beius: and doins: of man and an accumulated force
to his character."
Lowell was not a fanatic in his love of America an}* more than he was
on the antislavery question, though proud to sign his name to it. He could
sympathize deeply with. the South, who, as nobly as the Xorth, staked her
all. He did not think America a chosen people with a first claim upon
Providence, but he loved her, as he said in his "Epistle to Curtis,"
"So as only they
Who lore a mother fit to die for may."
Lowell's patriotism was, as we see it in the Commemoration Ode, for
example, a magnificent fabric woven out of his purest thoughts and highest
THE WELLEsLEY MAGAZINE. 409
aspirations. His ideal for America was for a state founded upon pure man-
hood, — upon "that excellent new thing we call Americanism, which is, I
suppose, that 'dignity of human nature' which the philosophers of the hist
century were always seeking, and which, after all, consists in not thinking
yourself either better or worse than your neighbor by reason of any
Lowell's last days —
" Calm days that loiter with snow-silent tread " —
were spent, as he had often wished, at his lifelong home, where he could
hear again his
'•Elniwood chimney" s deep-tkroated roar,"
and could see the birds
"Swim on sunshine, masterless as wind,'"
and could watch the leaves fall, one by one,
•'Balancing softly earthward without wind."
One by one the friends were going, and I fancy "the yaller pines'" must
have sung to him now.
"Scheiden! aeh, scheiden! "
"The lesson for us," he says, "is to close up, and I think we are drawn
nearer by these things, — though Death seems less solemn than he used, now
that we have seen him so often look at the number on our door on his way
to knock at a neighbors." But Cambridge is no longer a quiet village ; it
has " wriggled itself out of its chrysalis" into a gay butterfly, and the house
at Elmwood is " full of ghosts." "The telegraph," he laments, " has eosino-
politanized us in spite of ourselves ; the whole world has but one set of
nerves, and we all have the headache together;" but "Xature grows more
and more companionable as one grows older, and the Earth more motherly
tender to one who will ask to sleep in her lap so soon." Thus after a life as
fair and untarnished as Sir LaunfaPs " maiden mail," having found
Whom the gods love, Tranquility,"
he entered at last into "the chamber whose name is Peace," and which
" opens toward the sunrismg.'"
Jaxet E. Davidsox, '92.
410 THE WELLE SLEY MAGAZINE.
THE WORLD'S SLEEP.
Haste, cover yourself in the shrouded skies,
Faint moon, with your broken ring;
And, curious stars, bind fast your eyes
With the clouds that the rain winds bring.
Deep, motionless night, with your mantle dark
Of silence and shadow deep,
Bend closer while watching, the long hours mark,
And let the old world sleep.
Whispering wind of the wandering feet,
Steal back to the forest shade ;
Break not the quiet so still, so sweet,
That over the world is laid:
For the world is so weary, so sad with woe,
Wake it and it will weep;
Compassionate wind, breathe soft and go,
And let the old world sleep.
S. C. W., '95.
I seldom allow myself to leave everyday practicalities, and drift into
that midway world, of meditation and reminiscence ; but to-night the snow
has muffled all things, and the noise of the world comes to me from afar off;
my fire burns dreamily, and its faint murmur says over and over, " Remem-
ber." Its flickering blaze shows remote corners, unfathomable in the
darkness ; it falls half across an open piano and a great bowl of roses
receding in the gloom ; but a soft light brings out from among the shadows
and gently enfolds a quaint old banjo. I can only follow the musing fire-
light, and the room is but a frame for my picture. Ever, in my dream,
beside the great banjo stands a wee girl, with two very laughing blue eyes,
and two very long yellow braids, tied with two very small red bows. A
tiny, spotless white cap, a wonderfully short plaid dress, and bright red
stockings, add a world of color and life. Two chubby hands hold daintily
the tiny skirt ; one small foot is lightly pointed outward ; and the bright
head is saucily atilt— waiting for the music. Ah, Meenie, little Meenie !
I cannot write to-night, I cannot play ; I would not, but only think ;
and, in memory, I am a boy, just twelve years old, a silent, sensitive child,
living wholly within myself, creating a queer world of my own. I
THE WELLESLEY MAGAZINE. 411
delighted in writing stories, and yet more in playing for hours, seeking
to find what weird, fantastic tales the keys would tell to me. I was an
only child, and every wish, every whim of mine was satisfied ; every
effort was made to bring me out of my queer world of dreams, and to
interest me in a real world and its people. But my only friend and con-
fidant was my old music teacher, the embodiment of a beautiful ideal to
the sensitive, dreaming boy.
I can see him now, and his wee house in a long, dark, narrow part of
the city. But we forgot that the house was small ; we forgot that the street
was dingy ; we forgot that life was not one long fairy tale, or even that we
lived at all, when we sat together and the old professor played. If I could
paint, I should give that picture to the world, and the world in turn would
give me love and honor — the little room warm and rosv from the great log
on the tiny hearth ; the slanting rays from a departing winter sun peeping
enviously through the small window ; and around, beautiful banjos and
mandolins, guitars of gay cavaliers, violins of an age gone by, all lovingly
silent ; while in front of the piano sat the little German, his head thrown
slightly back, his white hair curling softly about his face and falling across
his high forehead; his hands caressing the keys, persuading them, and then
waiting for the answer ; and his eyes resting lovingly on the little form
beside him, — a tiny girl, with a rosy face laid against a great violin. And
the beautiful strains rose and rose until the heart of the boy listening was
bursting for joy.
Professor Helveti lived in the little house, in the world, I might say,
with Meenie and music for his only companions. I never knew his story,
but his eyes told me it was one of sorrow : and his life, that it was one of
self-sacrifice. When I knew him he lived in the little house, and worked
early and late on his beautiful instruments. I often wondered why a man
with such marvellous talents did not live higher in the world; but perhaps
his life had been lived ere I met him. To him Meenie was life and soul,
and his cherished wish was that some day she might go to his loved
Germany to study, and then give the world a second Paganini. The
child certainly had remarkable talent, and ever since she had been able
to hold a violin, she had worked steadily at her music; but now that she
knew all her father could teach her, he could only make violins, and he
412 THE WELLE SEE Y MAGAZINE.
worked determinedly on them and their sweet-voiced companions, that the
little girl might go elsewhere for training. But all his savings were put
into the next materials, and so it ever was ; simple, beautiful soul, loving
the little girl too much to give up the work, loving his work too much to
keep from it any money that might make it grander. I have learned since
that he also loved the world, and gave to its suffering out of his need.
Guests rarely came to the little house. To them and every one the
Professor was beautifully courteous, but silent. He could never be induced
to play in public. Meenie and I were his only audience, his only pupils ;
but the little house was not cheerless, at least for Meenie and me. The
Professor was always bright with us; and such a rosy, chubby, dimpled
source of life and laughter as Meenie, I have never seen. At first, I used
to sit in mute astonishment. I could not conceive of finding pleasure in
such incessant motion. Her hands were always busy. She had a host
of dolls, with a host of long German names ; and all the dolls were musi-
cians. Each had her favorite instrument ; but the prettiest one, Meenie's
most loved Gretchen, always played the violin. Meenie could cook, too,
— very queer dishes, but I never refused to eat them. But the little girl
loved music as well as I — ah! better, Meenie, better; and when she held
her great violin, and the little room o'erflowed with melody, I felt that
Meenie knew me as I knew myself. I forgot to wonder at her ; I forgot
to be silent with her. I was soon a professor of music, and was giving all
the dolls lessons, — all except Gretchen.
I used to think — I still think — Meenie had the biggest heart in the
world. I loved my own father and mother with all my heart, I thought ;
but when I saw Meenie with her father, my own love seemed petty. Baby
that she was, she never lost an opportunity of showing her devotion. In
the midst of her play she would run up to her father and pat his head,
bent so earnestly over the work for her. If he seemed tired, Meenie would
play to him ; when he was worried — I could never tell, but Meenie knew —
she was never noisy ; but when he was glad, she was bubbling over with
Then, when I knew Meenie better, she danced for me. I shall never
forget that afternoon. The Professor was in the happiest spirits, and Meenie
was irresistible. The Professor played the banjo, and the little girl seemed
THE WELLE SLEY MAGAZINE. 413
scarcely to touch the floor. Her every movement was grace. The long-
braids came loose, and a mass of golden hair fell about her. First with the
castanets, then with the tambourine, she danced, until my admiration was
limitless, and the old Professor was radiant. Then Meenie stopped, and I
forgot her and the yellow hair and the tambourine ; I saw only the Professor's
banjo. It was unusually large, and now that I forgot the dancing, I realized
that its tone was superb. The handle was inlaid with pearl, and the frets
and rim were of silver. My admiration for it pleased the Professor, and he
told me that he had made it himself a long while ago ; but when I asked him
if he would sell it, his face grew very sad, and he said, " Never, Frederick,
never;" and then added, pathetically, "unless I shall have to." When I
knew more of the Professor I learned that he only played his banjo when he
was happiest and brightest ; and his love for it seemed nearer akin to that
for Meenie than any other.
So we lived a bright dream life, Meenie and I ; and we believed that
one day we should all live together in a great house with three beautiful
music rooms, and that the Professor should make silver and pearl banjos, or
even gold ones if he liked, to keep and not to sell ; and that Meenie and I
should always play together. But one morning I awoke from my dream, as
we must inevitablv do, and it was a strange awakening.
For weeks the Professor had been in the most jovial spirits. He had
played the beautiful banjo, and Meenie had danced, and I had hurrahed and
applauded, and begged the Professor for the banjo ; but he had always
smiled half sadly, and had answered, "Not yet; Freddie, not yet." I
thought, too, the Professor was working harder, for even to me he looked
older ; but I was too happy to think. Then, one sunny afternoon, when the
dance was finished, and the little girl, flushed and breathless, had thrown
her arms about her father's neck, my joy was made complete. The Professor
said very simply, " Freddie, I'll sell you the banjo to-night, lad."
My father, always indulgent, gave me the money, and I promised him
that I would strive more earnestly to overcome my greatest fault. That
night I carried home my long-wished-for treasure ; but my heart was thump-
ing very quecrly, and I could not forget that Meenie and the Professor had
both kissed me when I left, and I could still hear Meenie calling as they
stood in the little doorway, "Freddie, be dood to fater's banjo." I have
414 THE WELLE8LEY MAGAZINE.
been good to it, and I shall always be, little Meenie ; but why did you not
tell me you were going to leave me? I should never have told, — but you did
not ; and the next morning I found the wee house empty, all the sweet song-
birds gone, and the kind old man and the beautiful child. I thought my
heart was broken, poor, sensitive little boy, — but it wasn't; and I kept my
promise to my father. When I learned to know other girls, though, they
were not like Meenie ; and when I went to college, and when I left it and
went out into the world, I never forgot my two dear playmates for a moment,
and I always felt that some day we should yet live together in the beautiful
house, Meenie and I, if the Professor could not be with us.
I waited and waited twelve busy years ; and then I grew tired of wait-
ing, the old restlessness came back to me. I could not pass the little house
in the dingy street, it was so different now. The banjo seemed always to
look at me with a sweet, reproachful face, — the Professor's own. I left the
great city, and wandered to the queerest, remotest places I could find, leaving
now and then some address by which to trace me. I had traveled almost a
year, and had gone back to my starting point, ready to set sail for home.
But something I found there detained me. It was a letter, covered with
postmarks and directions. Poor little letter ; it had been forwarded from
home, and had followed me to many countries, arriving always when I had
gone, until at last, almost worn out, it had come here to await me. And
this was what it said. Ah ! yes, I remember it all : —
Dear Freddie: You have perhaps forgotten Meenie and the. little house, but
I know you have not forgotten the Professor, and for his sake I ask this. He can-
not live, the doctor says ; and constantly he begs for his banjo. I have never
known just why he loved it so ; but he gave it up for me, and now I ask you to let
me redeem it. Meenie.
Let her redeem it ! Why had I ever taken it? But I was only a boy,
I could not know ; and now it was too late. But then I thought of the
beautiful house, and the music and joy unending, and I did not go home ; I
went to Germany, to the quaint old town of music, but Meenie was not
there. They looked at me questioningly when I asked about her ; and then
perhaps they saw that I loved her as they did ; and they told me how she had
brought their little world to her feet, and was soon to have brought a greater
one, but her father had died ; and then — they did not know.
THE WJELLESLEY MAGAZINE. 415
I waited, hoping, wondering. The next day was Sunday, and I found
my way to early mass. I had only been seated a few moments when a long
line of nuns glided silently into the cathedral ; first the black-veiled sisters,
then the novices in white ; but among them I saw only one face, almost as
white as the spotless veil, and strangely beautiful. I sought out the convent
of the Immaculate Conception. I asked the sweet-voiced Mother Superior
if I might see the young novice, Meenie Helveti. At first there was no
answer ; and then I heard the words, almost inaudible, " Sister Marie Theresa
took the final vows to-day."
I have the beautiful house now, and music every day, but there is only
one music room, and that is mine.
Agnes L. Caldwell, '96.
The golden glory quivers on the lake;
A robin's vesper note sounds clear and true;
Beyond the far hill line, one long, pale cloud
Lies like a thought of God across the blue.
M. H. McL.
It has been my good fortune to know in this world one hero, — and
Margie. The hero is John Corrigan, who has the finest brogue and the
dirtiest clothes I have ever met with. In a village with twenty saloons to
fifteen hundred inhabitants, he refused, when lying at the point of death, to
take the stimulants the doctor assured him were necessary to save his life.
He lived peaceably within forty feet of the most quarrelsome neighbors a
man could have, while his wife refused to speak to them for fourteen years.
He is two of the best things it is possible to be, — a faithful laborer and an
honest man ; I think probably he cannot sign his name. But I started to
tell, not of him, but of Margie.
My acquaintance with Margie began seven years ago, when we were
boarding in her grandfather's farmhouse one summer. She was at that time
three years old, and in as fair a way of being spoiled as a child ever was.
Her mother was dead ; her grandfather and her three strapping uncles were
hopeless ne'er-do-weels, and at that time, as more or less ever since, their
416 1HE WELLESLEY MAGAZINE.
principal use of their leisure was to worship at the shrine of the beautiful
child ; and their leisure, alas, was all the time, except the very little em-
ployed in fishing, chopping wood, or otherwise helping out the household
arrangements. Her grandmother was a breezy, big-hearted countrywoman,
but, like the others, painfully thriftless. A family of millionaires could not
have had more time to devote to one baby. Lastly, there was her father off
in a Connecticut factory, sending a good part of his earnings to be spent on
the child who kept for him the memory of his lovely wife.
Yet the combined and untiring efforts of these six, with their friends
and neighbors, had so far been insufficient to make Margie wilful, selfish, or
vain. The only time I can remember her showing anything at all like im-
periousness, was when, in the question of a certain ever-fascinating rag bag,
which was for some reason refused, she amiably said, " Give it to me quick,
before I cry." It was said without the slightest petulance and with perfect
sweetness ; it was, in fact, merely in the way of an argument, for when the
rag bag was still withheld there was not a sign of the threatened catastrophe.
It is very hard to refrain from trite quotations in the case of Margie, —
references to gems of purest ray serene, and questionings of Perdita's being
the only low-born lass whose actions smacked of something too noble for her
place. With all her gentleness, Margie, at three years old, had a pride, and
sensitiveness, and instinctive good breeding that were simply astonishing
when you considered how little she could have gained these things from her
environment, and how they were quite as unaccounted for by heredity. She
had a resolute little courage of her own, too. She would bravely talk to
my mother, for whom she had the deepest awe ; and she would of her own
free will force herself to pat Fluff, the Yorkshire terrier, — rather gingerly,
indeed, as if he were hot, but still pat him, although she lived in terror of
Naturally, we agreed among ourselves that Margie would never grow
up. A child as beautiful as an angel, with a disposition so supernaturally
sweet, who was allowed to sit up until ten o'clock every night, to eat cookies
continually between meals, and to drink strong tea or coffee three times a
day, is not one of the children that thrive in this world. But then, we
argued, perhaps it would be better for her not to grow up, the dear child !
She was too lovely and delicate a creature for this earth, — least of all for the
THE WELLESLEY MAGAZINE. 417
surrounding she was placed in. She was a poor little humming bird, some-
how by mistake slipped into a nest of honest, idle sparrows ; only with the
difference that if she lived she would grow into a sparrow herself, and use
sparrow speech, and live sparrow life ; and the process of change would be
infinitely more painful to her than it could be for us to see. We used to
grow quite metaphysical, talking over the case; and having analyzed it to
our own entire satisfaction, would launch into generalities and pessimism,
and grow quite happy again at our own cleverness.
Well, as I have said, that was all seven years ago. In those seven
years we have had, besides the satisfaction of feeling that you have found
the two alternatives between which the future is bound to choose, the added
satisfaction of seeing the future choose a way entirely different from both,
and altogether happier than either. We have seen Margie go through the
dreadful years from six to nine, when teeth come out, and length and lean-
ness increase, and pertness is lord of all ; but we have never known her
disagreeable for an instant. We have seen her the pet not only of a family
but of a neighborhood, yet remaining with as little egotism as a child could
have ; we have seen her the playmate of the sparrow children, without gain-
ing a trace of their rudeness, and of children from homes that are considered
far better, yet a sort of indescribable fineness placed her far above them all ;
and always without the least priggishness, — a thorough child among children.
I am not vaporizing about something I am not sure of; I am describing a
little girl whom I know very well ; and I am not eulogizing the virtues of
the departed, for in spite of everything Margie is a strong child to-day,
thanks to an out-of-door life in a glorious climate.
So neither of our prophecies has been fulfilled. Margie lives and
thrives, and is still unroughened and unspoiled. But I wish I could forget a
look that kept coming over her face the last time she came to see me. She
still comes once in a while, and we talk over old times and the Yorkshire
terrier. It was a dreary day enough, and I was very busy, but still the at-
mosphere was not depressing enough to account for all the wistful sadness of
that'expression, — the look of a child troubled with a sorrow it cannot under-
stand. It is only in fairy tales, alas, that we can end with, "And they lived
happily ever afterwards ;" and life differs in some respects from most fairy
tales. At least, Margie's does. Florence McMahon Painter, '97.
418 THE WELLE SLEY MAGAZINE.
MY BEOTHER'S FIANCEE.
It was the first day of the fall term. My roommate and I were kneel-
ing in the middle of the room unpacking. Four or five other girls stood
about watching us at work, and bewailing their less fortunate lots, for their
trunks had not as yet " come up." In the meantime they were helping us
to increase the general confusion about, taking the articles as we handed
them up from our trunks, subjecting each new gown or hat to a series of com-
ments and questions, and then adding it to the fast-growing heaps on the
chairs, tables, and couch, or laying it on the floor in a " muss," such as can
be understood and appreciated only by that most experienced of " mussers,"
the college girl, packing or unpacking.
Suddenly I drew from my trunk a photograph, and giving it a hasty
glance, I waved it excitedly above my head, crying, "Aha; behold my
future sister-in-law!" "Oh, where?" "What's her name?" "Is she
nice ! " " When was it announced?" "Why didn't your brother wait till
he had seen us before he chose a partner?" " Oh, isn't she nice ! " "Let
me see ! " came tumbling about my ears in such a volley of words that I could
only sit and laugh as the girls all leaned over me and scrambled to get a look
at the picture, for "my brother Jack" had been well drummed into those
young ladies' ears during all our Freshman year, and by this time they re-
garded him quite as personal property.
While our visitors, however, had manifested such lively interest and
enthusiasm over my little announcement, my roommate had remained on her
knees before her trunk, saying not a word, but watching us with a surprised
and puzzled look on her face. She was just beginning to speak when the
heavy rumbling of cart wheels fell upon our ears, and one of the girls jumped
away from the group leaning over Margaret's photograph, ran to the window,
and crying, " Ah, my trunks at last !" darted quickly from the room. This
was a signal for the other girls to follow, on a quest for their own baggage,
and my roommate and I were left alone.
" You don't mean to say, Edith, that Jack and Margaret have at last
acknowledged themselves engaged?" my roommate said. She had visited
at my home only a month before, and had learned then how for two years
Jack had been devoted to my particular friend, Margaret Bassett ; how we
THE WELLESLEY MAGAZINE. 419
in the family — and town, too, for that matter — all took it for granted that
some understanding existed between the two, but how utterly impossible it
was for any of us to know anything definite about the matter until they
themselves chose to enlighten us. But to enlighten us was the one thins;
o o o
that Mr. Jack and Miss Margaret didn't see fit to do. Was it because they
had lacked drawing out? Well, not exactly ! Both in my capacity as sister
and as confidential friend, I had labored as only a sister or a confidential
friend can labor. All summer long I had denied myself the pleasure of get-
ting up to an early breakfast with the family merely for the sake of sharing
my lazy brother's later meal. Each morning as he had come down I had
taken pains to impress it upon his mind that if it had not been for me, the
maid would have let his breakfast get cold. Each morning I had sat and
poured his coffee, serving him with sisterly patience and sweetness ; I had
drawn him into speculative talk as to what we should do after we left college,
and had assured him that the only prospect of his ever getting rich lay in
marrying money, hoping to hear him deny it, or show some sign of disagree-
ment, for Margaret is by no means a wealthy girl. I had made him sofa
pillows, racket covers, and college flags galore, but it all availed me nothing
toward the question at stake. I knew just what he thought of every other
girl in our circle of acquaintance, and just what intercourse he had with each
one, but whenever our talk drifted around to Margaret, it became stilted, so
to speak, and as nearly conventional as Jack's language can be. A certain
constraint would suddenly make itself felt, and the conversation never seemed
to thrive, nor ever get beyond a certain point.
As confidential friend my success was no better. No matter how much
I confided to her — and I confided to her everything I knew, and more — no
matter how much she confided to me in return, the one subject of her rela-
tions to my brother, Margaret most carefully and studiously avoided ; I
suppose because he was my brother.
And so, when my roommate came to see me, though we all felt well-
nigh certain that Jack and Margaret were engaged, no one could absolutely
say so, and we had all concluded that they had decided — most wisely, my
mother said — not to announce any engagement until Jack should be grad-
uated from college. Therefore it was most natural that my roommate should
be surprised when I suddenly put my "future sister-in-law" on public ex-
hibition in this style.
420 THE WELLESLEY MAGAZINE.
"Well, no, my dear," I said in answer to her question; "I hadn't
heard any engagement announcement before I left home, but I had seen one.
While I was in the midst of my packing, the very morning of the day I
came away, Margaret and her sister — you met Mary, — Mrs. Shaw, — didn't
you? — came in to say good-bye. Both my father and sister came into the
room to see them, and as we all sat there talking together, suddenly I saw
something that made me fairly jump with surprise. I was terribly afraid
the rest saw me start. Margaret had raised her hand to stick in a hairpin,
and there, right on her engagement finger, was a beautiful great big dia-
mond ! Why, I couldn't take my eyes away from it. It didn't seem as if
I could sit there much longer without making some sign, but with so many
people in the room I couldn't approach such a subject, you know ! I was
trying to think of some excuse for taking Margaret into another room for a
moment, when just then Mrs. Shaw rose, and said they must hurry home.
So I decided I should have to give Margaret her 'address of welcome' into
our family by letter, and gave up the thought of saying anything about it
there. But Margaret looked a little surprised at the enthusiasm of my fare-
well ; it was rather more joyful than usual, you know. As soon as I could get
hold of papa I asked him if he had seen the ring, saying of course that meant
the announcement of the engagement. He looked properly pleased and appre-
ciative for just about three minutes, and then the queerest, most puzzled,
anxious, but amused expression came over his face that ever I saw there.
" ' What's the trouble?' I said ; 'aren't you delighted at the prospect?'
" 'Yes, indeed,' he said, in an absent-minded way; 'but where, how,
and when do you suppose that son of mine ever saved enough money to buy
a diamond ring ? '
"'Oh !' I returned blankly, and for a moment I had awful visions of
other fellows who might have given Margaret that ring. Just then, however,
the doorbell rang, and there was the hackman for my trunk, and my trunk
not half packed ! Then I just had to fly around to finish packing and catch
my train ; so now, you see, I must begin on my address of welcome. Good-
ness, whatever shall I say?"
My roommate gave me a compassionate smile, and said, " It's fortunate
for you that you have only one brother to do this sort of thing for." I was
quite ready to adopt those sentiments at the end of an hour and a half, when
' THE WELLE SLEY MAGAZINE. 421
I began to copy the results of my labor. I told Margaret how it had always
been the desire of my heart that she should be the additional member of our
family. I dilated on my brother's good taste in his choice of gems, not
only gems of the mineral world, but gems of humanity ( !) ; and after dwell-
ing long and earnestly on my hopes that life might prove harmonious and
realize our anticipations on both sides, and that she might never be disap-
pointed in her choice, it was with unbounded happiness that I signed myself
her sister, etc.
The letter, duly read and approved by my roommate, went. In the
hurry and confusion of the first days of the college year I forgot all about
it, and about home affairs in general. But when, the next week, I opened
the following letter aud began to read, I remembered : —
My dear Edith :
You don't know what a surprise your last letter was ; we haven't got over
laughing at it yet. Mamma, and Mary, and I, whenever we think or speak of you,
just sit down and shake with the funniness of it. My dear, that ring is Mary's !
You know her cook left suddenly, and when I went in there the next day (Mrs.
Shaw lived in the next house to Margaret), Mary was preparing to knead some
bread. She slipped off her rings and gave them to me, and I forgot to give them
back before we went down to your house. I am very sorry to have to disappoint
you so, my dear, but do try to bear up.
Then there was a skilful transition to other matters, and the writer
concluded : —
As always, your loving friend,
As soon as I had sufficiently recovered from the shock of disappoint-
ment and mortification that followed, I began to consider my further course
of action. Should I, a Sophomore, allow myself to be overcome by such
a trifle? Margaret had not denied that she was engaged to Jack. I pon-
dered long and earnestly. At last an inspiration seized me — the one inspira-
tion of my life; and may it continue so to be ! I seized my pen and
wrote : —
422 THE WELLE SLEY MAGAZINE.
My dear Margaret :
Yes, I was disappointed when I first read your letter, but after looking it over
more carefully I have decided that I have no reason for feeling so, after all. For I
notice that you carefully avoid denying that you really are engaged, and, after all,
that is the point, and not that little episode of the ring. But far be it from me to
seem to be forcing your confidence ! Just let me ask one thing of you, — keep my
letter. I am sure that it will be more or less appropriate some time. Aud when
that time comes, as I know it is bound to do, take it out and read it.
Your loving and hopeful friend,
That time does not seem to have come yet. I am still waiting and
hoping. But it is not my fault, is it, if Margaret is not my brother's Bancee ?
Corxelia Park, '96.
If eighteen girls in sixteen minutes ask a nineteenth girl if she has
"done anything" on her brief; and if each question and answer requires on
the side of the questioned one the loss of three tenths of the store of
patience she keeps on hand ; aud if all nineteen girls are obliged to remain
within one large room for two hours ; what will be the result (1) when the
brief is taken into account, (2) when the store of patience is exhausted,
(3) when the nineteenth becomes one of the eighteen and one of the eigh-
teen takes the place of the nineteenth?
Joanna Parker, '96.
IN A HOP FIELD.
In every direction there were avenues of hop vines. I stood in the
middle of a labyrinth of sunlight and shadow and looked away down through
the vistas to where the e}'e lost itself in a confusion of clusters and leaves.
Here and there were groups of chattering Indian girls in straight, blue
THE WELLE SLEY MAGAZINE. 423
frocks, with strong, full arms upraised in the picking. Now and then a
singsong voice would drawl, " Box full," and the overseer would come with
hop pole and tickets, smiling good-naturedly under his broad hat as he ran
his arm up to the elbow in each freshly gathered heap.
And the last thing I remembered as I walked down the healthful green
avenues was Matie Lasch'pelle with hop vines like a scarf around her neck,
and hiding the brim of her hat, and falling with stray bits of hair over her
forehead as she stood like a brown, propitious dryad, all sunshine, and
smiles, and leaves.
After school we went to the woods for ferns and wild flowers to decorate
the chapel. The children went ahead carrying baskets. We followed a
cool, muddy path for half a mile or more, then somebody said, " You may
go now, boys," and in the twinkling of an eye there wasn't a child in sight,
and there remained only the impression of a dozen backs whisking into the
Then the brownie came with his hands full of Indian Pipe, and laid it in
my lap with his bewitching, individual smile. His mouth went up at the
corners, and he raised one eyebrow after the other, glancing at me sideways
with his funn3 r , round, black eyes. He did the same way when we differed
in school, except that the corners of his mouth went down. He was a quaint,
brown thing amidst all the green. O yes, he could show me where the
Indian Pipe growed ; he knowed where they was lots.
" Run on," I said ; " I'll follow you."
What a chase the little brown will-o'-the-wisp led me ! Under logs,
over logs, through bushes, under bushes, over stumps, straight on, till way
down by a swamp we found the "ghost flowers," pure, and white, and
And I can no more think how the brownie found the Indian Pipe than I
know what guides a sparrow.
Winifred Watson, '96.
424 THE WELLE SLEY MAGAZINE.
TO THE BOARD WALK.
One morn sad voices told us you were gone :
With measured, slow, and heavy tread they bore
Your shattered form away. Too late t' implore
Forgiveness, that we loved you not ! Alone
You dwelt, down-trodden and oppressed. 'Tis done,
Your life of usefulness to us; no more
You'll guide our erring footsteps, nevermore
Uphold us as our hurried course we run.
Faith bids us hope that you will come again
From out the dark place where they laid you low,
To wander o'er the hillside and the paths
Across the lawn; to guide, perhaps, through rain,
Or hail, or sleet, or winter's deepest snow,
Some other footsteps with your cross-laid laths.
Katharine Fackenthal, '95.
A SENSITIVE PLANT.
"Oh, Grandma! Please may I go over to Miss 'Gusty's a little
while?" Marjory's voice was shrill with eagerness, and she raised her
flushed face anxiously as she spoke. Mrs. Jordan looked to make sure
that the chubby hands and pink pinafore were clean ; then she said, " Yes.
But don't run and get all het up," she cautioned.
"Will you take a note to Miss 'Gusty forme?" called Aunt Mattie
from the kitchen. "It's right on the desk." Careless Aunt Mattie ! She
had forgotten that an unfinished note to her dearest friend was also on the
desk. Marjory willingly took the bit of paper, folded it, and giving
grandma a good-bye kiss, trudged off.
The warm sunshine of late afternoon was pouring into every nook and
corner of the old-fashioned garden, where poppies, hollyhocks, verbenas,
foxglove, and larkspur had sprung up in wild but delightful confusion. A
riotous bed of sweet peas just now held the attention of Miss 'Gusty, who
was on her knees trying to straighten the tangled vines. She was so intent
upon her work that she did not notice Marjory fumbling at the gate, until
the child called, " Miss 'Gusty ! Miss 'Gusty ! " Then the woman scrambled
awkwardly to her feet and came with rapid strides down the walk. As she
caught sight of the little girl the stiff lines of her face relaxed into a smile ;
THE WELLE SLEY MAGAZINE. 425
and pulling back the heavy weight and chain, she said playfully, " Ye haint
been to see me for a 1-o-o-ng time."
The child entered, laughing. " Don't you 'member I came yesterday?"
asked she. The woman knotted her brows for an instant, as if in doubt.
"Well, I declare, so ye did," she admitted, at length. Then they both
laughed together, as Miss 'Gusty took her note and stopped in the middle
of the path to read it.
The little girl bent down to a sensitive plant at her side and brushed
her fingers gently over it. The leaves drew together with a shudder, as it
in pain. "Oh! it always hurts," murmured the child, compassionately.
She did not hear Miss 'Gusty's quick gasp. "What a funny plant you
are ! " she cried, as, at a second touch, the curious leaves again shrivelled
up. "Well, I won't do it any more. Miss 'Gusty, have the robins eaten
up all your berries? " Miss 'Gusty smiled faintly. "Let's go'n see," she
said, tucking the scrap of paper into the loose front of her dress.
Her face grew suddenly old as the smile left it, and she walked along
without speaking until they had reached the bushes. Then, with an effort, she
aroused herself, and soon had the child interested in a story, as they picked
the crimson fruit. When they had filled a tiny basket for Marjory to take
home, they sat a few moments on the piazza in the cool shade of a rose-
covered lattice. Miss 'Gusty brought out a plate of caraway cookies and a
tumbler of shrub, with which they were just beginning to play feast, Marjory
being a princess and Miss 'Gusty her servant, when Annie Brewer came
along, and thrusting her head between the fence pickets, called out, ex-
citedly, " O Marjory ! there's a bear down street that can dance, and your
gran'ma says you can go and stay till the whistle blows. So hurry ! " And
Marjory, in her haste, came near leaving her basket behind, and could
hardly wait for her sunbonnet to be tied.
Miss 'Gusty shaded her eyes with her hand as she watched the
children disappearing down the long, dusty roadway. She stood motion-
less in the same position even after the two little figures had passed out of
her sight. Her indigo print dress hung in skimpy folds barely to her ankles.
Her pale hair was drawn back into a tight knob beneath her rusty garden
hat. Her face was deeply wrinkled; her eyes, once blue, were now faded
into a dull gray. She had always worked hard, and she looked even more
tired than old.
426 THE WELLESLEY MAGAZINE.
As she turned to go in, she stooped with a sudden impulse and touched
the sensitive plant almost fiercely ; but she sighed as she entered the house.
Her mother was sitting by the window. "Ain't ye goiu' to git supper?"
she quavered; "it's 'most six o'clock." Mrs. Strong's withered figure
drooped in the great armchair. Her thin hair was white and her face was
shrunken. She wore a lace cap, with soft lavender bows upon it. Her
black cashmere gown clung to her limply. Everything about her seemed
weak and undecided.
Miss 'Gusty, on the contrary, was energetic and firm ; she had too
much will, the neighbors said. To-night she prepared the tea with deter-
mination suited to a more important cause. Mrs. Strong noticed the
unusual grimness, but, having learned from past experience not to question
her daughter, she kept silence for a time. When the dishes were done,
however, and Miss 'Gusty took up her knitting, in spite of the fact that the
clock was on the stroke of seven, her mother's curiosity got the better of
of her. "Why, 'Gusty Strong!" she exclaimed, " hev ye forgot choir
rehearsal?" "Did I ever forgit it?" was the only reply; but the needles
clicked warningly. Mrs. Strong sank back in helpless wonder.
The evening dragged along. At nine the elder woman, still wonder-
ing, said "goodnight" and went to bed. Shortly after, Miss 'Gusty
brought in the bird from the porch, locked the outside doors, and wound
the clock. Then she went into her own narrow room, which opened out of
Mrs. Strong's, and turning the key softly, sat down upon the edge of the
bed. She was trembling from head to foot, though her face was rigid. She
drew forth the crumpled note, but held it for a while without unfolding it.
Finally she read in a slow whisper, as if to convince herself that the words
were real, —
Dear Mame : —
Call at seven for me, please. I suppose we shall sing the same worn-out
hymns to-morrow. Why doesn't some one tell Miss 'Gusty that she is too anti-
quated to be useful? The idea of having her for a leader! Such a voice! It
seems too bad that
Miss 'Gusty's eyes were blinded with unusual tears. She buried her
face in the pillows and cried as she had never cried before, save once. Her
THE WELLE SLEY MAGAZLNE. 427
memory went back, over the years, to the day when she had stood for the
first time in the choir gallery, and raised her fresh young voice in praise to
God. She thought of Nathan Edwards, and how he used to walk home
with her after meeting. She thought again, with weary bitterness, of the
pretty face which had come between them, and of her stern resolve that no
one should know she cared. She thought of the dreary Sundays that had
followed those early, happy Sabbaths. And then she recalled the pride she
had felt later, when she was appointed choir leader. Her joys had been so
few, she clung to this one almost pitifully.
She had always served the church well, but from this time on, her
church work had been her life. She loved even the little square, white-
walled vestry, with its box stove and rows of high-backed settees, where
every Saturday night, for twenty years, she had conducted rehearsals.
Here, too, every Sunday afternoon, for more than twenty years, she had
taught a class of restless boys and girls. Of late, this same cramped room
had been the meeting place of the " Band of Promise," which she had organ-
ized and built up. She had delighted so much in these quiet pleasures.
That evening, when Miss 'Gusty did not appear with the other members
of the choir, there was much wonder. Never before, in all her long term of
service, had she missed a rehearsal without sending some word. When, at
half-past seven, she had not come, Willard Adams took her place and led.
He was a round-faced, sunburned young man, with a great deal of self-
confidence. He sang loudly and kept good time. The other singers were
evidently pleased with his leading.
Once or twice during the evening Mattie Jordan felt rather disturbed.
She hoped there had been no mistake about that note. She even decided to
call, on her way home, and see if Miss 'Gusty were sick. But a half hour
later, when she passed the Strong house with Willard Adams and Mamie
Reed, Miss 'Gusty had quite slipped from her mind.
After all, no one was much surprised when 'Gusty Strong resigned her
position in the choir. " I sh'd think she would be tired of it by this time,"
said good Mrs. White, and she voiced the general feeling. When it was
discovered that Miss 'Gusty had also given up her class and her mission
428 THE WELLESLEY MAGAZINE.
work, there was some talk, of course, but it soon died out. It was univer-
sally agreed that a younger person was really needed to interest and govern
the children. Mattie Jordan, however, never discussed the subject.
Mabel A. Carpenter.
Slowly sinks the glowing sun,
All is quiet as a nun;
Drowsy dronings have begun
Of the bees.
On the lofty elm-tree's crest,
Ere he takes his evening rest,
Twittering softly from his nest,
Calls the wren.
Out of neighboring marshy bogs,
Comes the sound of lusty frogs,
Calling from the mossy logs
To their friends.
And the distant hills around
Echo to the church-bell's sound,
Bidding rest and peace abound
O'er the land.
Constance L. Rothschild, '96.
BEAUTY AS FOUND IN SPENSER.
The "Faery Queene" is everywhere enriched and ennobled by an all-
pervading sense of beauty which gives a touch of the ideal to even the
most commonplace incident. Each of its many pictures has a distinct
quality. Though they are sometimes interspersed with horrible, even loath-
some scenes, yet these, by their darkness, make the gleams of beauty
all the brio-hter.
This continual contrast is the conscious or unconscious revelation of
the importance which Spenser attaches to beauty. To him it is something
divine and "heavenly born," "mother of love and of all worlds' delight."
Every creature acknowledges the holiness of beauty. The gods stand all
astonished at the fair face of Mutabilitie,
"Such sway does beauty even in heaven bear."
THE WELLE SEE T MAGAZINE. 429
The lion on beholding the beauty of Una
"His bloody rage assuaged with remorse,
And at the sight forgat his furious force."
This susceptibility enters into all Spenser's favorite characters. Guyon,
in the Bower of Bliss, can scarcely control " those wandering eyes of his."
Britomart, too, in the house of Busyrane, "did greatly wonder, ne could
satisfy her greedy eyes with gazing a long space." But the human beauty
of Britomart herself is more effective than the grace of art. All feel the
spell of her loveliness, and the most true feel it the most deeply. Such
is Scudamore, who, at sight of her, "did worship her as some celestial
The loveliness of beauty as appealing merely to the eye, is closely felt
in Spenser's attitude toward natural beauty. Nature surely has her part in
the "Faery Queene," but so much more is it a poem of humanity, that we only
occasionally catch sight of her. She is always associated with peace and
quiet. What seems to us sublime is often only dreadful to Spenser. The sea
is to him a " weary gulf," rich " through the overthrow and wrecks of many
wretches" ; the " craggy cliff" " a dangerous and detestable place." But the
quiet country, the "grassy greene," the "crystal stream," and pleasant
forest glades where Nature is always in friendship with man, are very dear
to him. "When we reach one of these spots in the "Faery Queene," we feel
that Spenser has indeed seen it, and felt it, and loved it. When he wishes
to show us a " dainty place," "as it an earthly paradise had been," he takes us
to " a pleasant glade,"
" With mountains round about environed,
And mighty woods which did the valley shade,
And like a stately theatre it made,
Spreading itself into a spatious plaine,
And in the midst a little river plaide,
Among the pumy stones which seemed to plaine,
With gentle murmure tbat his course they did restraine."
But it is only in "fair, sunshiny weather" that this beauty can appear.
Since beauty is ever associated with gladness, the face of Nature cannot be
beautiful without the gladdening sunlight. Night is a blemish, defacing all,
" ne letting see the beauty of the Maker's work." From this may
arise the continual allusions to the sun when other reference to Nature is
430 THE WELLE BLEY MAGAZINE.
absent. To say that the sun is risen, is, to Spenser, to say that beauty has
come to the world. Though this childlike enjoyment of the external beauty
of Nature prevails throughout the " Faery Queene," yet Spenser feels deeply
the mystery of this beauty, the force of which this is but the "garment,
bright and wondrous sheene." The spirit of Nature wears a veiled face, but
when she appeared on Arlo Hill, it was said
" That it so beauteous was
And round about such beams of splendour threw
That it the Sunne a thousand times did pass."
It is at the presence of this mystic power, that
' ' The Earth herself of her own motion
Out of her fruitful bosom made to grow
Most dainty trees, that shooting up anon
Did seeme to bow their blooming heads full lowe
For homage unto her and like a throne did showe."
The love of Nature is strong in Spenser ; but it is in the struggle of the
human soul after the ideal purity and beauty, in the hope for the ultimate
blending of the sensuous and spiritual, that his greatest work lies. With his
high conception of beauty, a human face cannot be lovely without a beautiful
soul behind. "All that fair is, is by nature good." His tender chivalry
leads him to see the most perfect revelation of beauty in woman. All his
favorite heroines, with their perfect beauty of face, are absolutely pure. It
is true, Spenser acknowledges "that goodly beauty, alle heavenly born, is
foul abused." But it is noticeable that women of this class are rare in the
"Faery Queene," and when they do appear, their deviation from nature is often
suggested by the false positions in which they are placed. Duessa is beauti-
ful, but only when she becomes the false Fidessa. As the fair is the good,
so is the converse true.
"All that's good, is beautiful and fair."
Though Spenser acknowledges that
" Oft it falls that many a gentle mind
Dwells in deformed tabernacle drownd,"
yet we shall scarcely find a mind of this sort in all the "Faery Queene."
But when purity manifests itself in a beautiful woman, he sees the
loveliest thing on earth. Una, the most familiar of Spenser's heroines,
THE WELLESLEY MAGAZINE. 431
though a type, is distinctly a woman. One is chiefly impressed with her
perfect purity. A suggestion of sadness like her black stole clings about
her. She always has some hidden care in heart, the woman made perfect
through suffering. Even when the dragon is slain and the knight safe, Una
is " left to mourn." Yet, through all, her " heavenly grace" is undimmed.
She remains " as bright as does the morning star appear," and her mission is
ever to " make a sunshine in the shadie place."
Strongly in contrast with the meek and gentle Una is the maiden
Belphoebe, the type of " fresh, flowering Maydenhead," perfect in " grace and
goodly modesty." As she appears in the greenwood, she brings a divine
freshness. She comes in the joy of her youth to do a kind deed, and goes
on her happy way again. Like her character, her beauty is fresh and strong,
" able to heal the sick, and to revive the dead." Her sister Amoret is the
type of the pure woman whose life is ruled by love, the " Lodestarre of all
chaste affection." Her face is always gentle and lovely, " shining with
beautie's lisfht and heavenlv virtue's orace." With her dwell Shamefastness,
Cherefulness, Modesty, Courtesy, Silence, and Obedience, and she sits, "even
in the lap of Womanhood." She only is pure enough to wear the girdle ot
But the beauty of "gentle Amoret" lacks the vitality of Britomart's.
She is a splendid, active woman, rejoicing in conflict, yet governed, like
nearly all Spenser's women, by motives of love. She is the first champion
of purity, the enemy of all that is ignoble, yet, through all, keeps her modest
simplicity unspoiled. In her is pictured the vanquishing power of beauty.
Everything base, and indeed everything noble, falls before her spear, and
acknowledges her supremacy. But without her spear the power of her
loveliness conquers the just, as in the contest with Artegall. When Arte-
gall raises his sword to strike, the steel itself sinks down to do obedience
"to so divine a beautie's excellence."
"Anil he himselfe, long gazing thereupon,
At last fell humbly down upon his knee,
And of his wonder made religion."
But the perfect beauty, the "beauty excellent," is suggested by the
character of Florimell. With her "angel's face" adorned "with all divine
perfection," she is
432 THE WELLE8LEY MAGAZINE.
" The bountiest virgin and most debonaire
That ever living eye, I weene, did see."
" The surest sign whereby ye may her know,
Is that she is the fairest wight alive, I trow."
Even the false Florimell, who possesses her form without her soul,
surpasses all other ladies in outward loveliness. But Florimell herself is fair
" The great Creator's own resemblance bright."
For her all true knights long to fight, and for her safety all Faery land is
anxious. Every human being, even the most obtuse, has yet enough of the
godlike to adore Florimell ; for
" To adore thing so divine as beautie were but right."
She flees from all who approach her, and like the ideal beauty is hard to
reach ; but all who see her, even in the distance, fall under the spell of her
great loveliness. Even Prince Arthur, though true to his Faery Queene,
" Oft wished that lady faire mote be his Faery Queene,
Or that his Faery Queene were such as she."
Marmell is permitted to receive her, through his great love, as love is
the pathway by which we approach the divine beauty. Florimell is a witness
to the absolute truth of beauty. Before her purity nothing false can stand.
When the snow maiden, the falseness that pretends to beauty, is placed be-
side the real Florimell, she melts away and vanishes. When
" The noble Ladie was ybrought
Adorn' d with honor and all comely grace,
Whereto her bashful shamefastness ywrought
A great increase in her faire, blushing face,
Then did he set her by that snowy one, —
Like the true saint beside the image set, —
Of both their beauties to make paragone,
And trial 1 ., whether should the honor get;
Straightway, so soon as both together met,
Th' enchaunted Damzell vanisht into nought;
Her snowy substance melted as with heat,
Ne of that goodly hew remayned ought
But th' simple girdle which about her wast was wrought."
Annie K. Tuell, '96.
THE WELLESLEY MAGAZINE. 433
A GIEL I KNOW.
I like to look at her best when she droops her head so that I can see
the delicate outline of forehead, nose, lip and chin. There is something
vaguely impersonal about this outline, as if, though it happens to express her
peculiar self well enough, it had originally been only a mask, inherited to-
gether with some few of the family individualities which it indicates, — a
mask which some stern grandfather or sentimental grandmother might have
worn just as properly. It is marked now with her own signs of possession,
however; the straight, determined mouth and finely cut chin, which might
so easily have been harsh or unfeeling, are innocent and pathetic ; the eyes
which might have been bright and keen, are merely wistful. It is a face
which even now is sometimes sweet and tender, though the features have not
yet thoroughly learned the trick. In the whole face, with its flush of faint
pink over forehead and cheeks, and relief of soft, light hair, there is some-
thing indescribably pure and touching and remote.
Edith Ore, '98.
Thou dost not need such songs as we may sing,
Thou fair, bright gem amid the mountains laid.
Thine own soft ripples hymns are murmuring
To those whose homage pure to thee is paid,
As just at eventide they wander still
On shore, and look across thy blue expanse,
To where the sunset glow has touched each hill
With colors gay that on the forests dance.
Ere long they sadden into shades of night,
Yet night herself with love for thee is filled,
When moonbeams fair the shadows put to flight,
And over every place soft light distilled.
Then, best beloved of all the mountain lakes,
The night thy beauty all the tend'rer makes.
Anna M. Bingham, '97.
434 THE WELLE SLEY MAGAZINE.
To those students who were in or near Boston during the recent
vacation, the German Opera is probably a familiar theme. The last season
has seen all music-loving, theatre-going Boston plunged into the depths of
such a sea of music and drama, Italian, French and German, as even Boston
itself had hardly known how to drearn of before ; and all Boston discussed
the Grand Opera — reminiscences of last night's entertainment with the
breakfast, comparisons at luncheon, and anticipations at dinner — it was the
one grand topic of the day. Criticism says that all this was well worth while,
that the German Opera in Boston was a decided success, a true bit of the
Fatherland, with its strong German voices and its grand music. On the
whole, it was well staged and sustained, with, however, some few flaws due
to a certain lack of scenic arrangements. Mr. Damrosch's interpretation of
the Wagner music was excellent, strong with all the force and intensity
which characterizes that wonderful leader.
Professor Wenckebach, in anticipation of the Opera, gave her advanced
German classes here some preparation for the parts from the Nibelungen
Lied, "Die Walkiire," "Sigfried" and " Gotterdiimmerung," and also, in
a talk given in the chapel, explained and compared some of the principal
motifs of the Nibelungen music. We take this opportunity to thank
Professor Wenckebach for the consequent better ability to appreciate the
In individuals, justice is a natural instinct ; in corporations, it is the
result of slow and painful growth. Whether the well-known statement that
"corporations have no souls to lose" has any beai"ing on this subject, is an
open question. At any rate Wellesley's experience would go far toward
verifying this statement.
It is a source for rejoicing that Wellesle} r students are no longer the
despised hangers on of Riverside and Auburn dale ; from this time forth they
THE WELLESLEY MAGAZINE. 435
may journey to the Hub as the self-respecting inhabitants of a respected
town. This privilege should have been ours long years ago ; indeed, we
were deceived into the belief that it was ours at the beginning of the year.
Did not the accumulated eloquence of Wellesley pour itself out in the good
cause of justice? Were not the obdurate hearts of those mysterious beings
who manage railroads moved by that eloquence ? And, alas, were not their
hearts hardened again like Pharaoh's of old, so that they " would not"?
But however trying the process has been, the result is most gratifying
and likewise illustrates the wise old saw that "good things come slowly."
If reforms were contagious, one might hope for justice in another direction.
Imagine the amazement of visitors who travel from Boston to Wellesley
for the small sum of fifteen cents, and are then transported from the station
to the college in a luxurious barge for twenty cents. Verily, it would be
true economy to have steam cars invade our grounds and to establish a rail-
way station at College Hall.
Ten years of hard work and undaunted purpose had their successful
culmination on Saturday evening, April 20, when Professor Churchill's
reading crowned the completion of the Monroe Fund of Wellesley College.
The history of the Fund is an interesting one. In the spring of 1885, Pro-
fessor Currier, ever seeking for new ways and means to give to her classes the
best possible knowledge of the great art of expression, conceived the idea of
starting a fund, the interest of which should bring to Wellesley inspiration
and suggestion, and example in its work. The following autumn the ideal
plan began its real existence, Professor Churchill generously giving the
first reading in its behalf. During the ten years that have followed, many
friends of Wellesley have proved faithful friends of the Fund also, and step
by step, through discouragement sometimes, it is true, and by hard work
always, the amount, $5,000, has been raised. The Monroe Fund stands
to-day completed, an ever-existing witness ' ' to the wisdom and energy of
Professor Currier in adding to her department a permanent testimony to the
need of vocal training for women who are to use the higher education to the
best advantage." It was a great delight to the friends of the Fund that
Professor Churchill, one of its stanchest and oldest helpers, should honor
436 THE WELLESLEY MAGAZINE.
its completion, as he did its beginning, ten years ago ; in his own happy
phrase, "that salutatory and valedictory should both be mine to give."
And the crowded chapel and hearty enthusiasm of Saturday evening
abundantly testify to the appreciation of the Wellesley students, and their
gratitude to both originator and friends of the Monroe Fund.
This is a day of progress, and this number of the Magazine will go down
history as recording no less than three radical reforms in the Wellesley world.
We rejoice in "reduced rates"; we are glad of privilege to develop our
artistic faculties, if we have any, in musical and histrionic directions ; but the
new departure within our very walls is the one which most truly delights all
members of our college community. When the President announced from
the chapel platform that, dating from the first of May, the library would be
open on Sunday, the hearty applause that followed was but slight expression
of our appreciation of the fact that " all things come round to (her) who
will but wait." The additional privilege of drawing books from the library
on any day, instead of only on Saturday, as heretofore, is also a great step
in the direction of that wider and fuller college life which has always been
the ideal of every true student at Wellesley. But now that we have attained
to our long-wished-for use of the library and its precious contents, it be-
hooves us, as students, to show our appreciation by a strict adherence to all
library rules, feeling sure that they are only such as are demanded by the
needs of all ; and by a still greater deference to that wise Public Opinion
which is after all the only arbiter of the questions of our college life, and which
will forever decree that the working aspect of the Wellesley library be re-
served for its six days' use.
Every dweller in the Wellesley world takes a just pride in its ideal
grounds and their many beauties. But are the satisfied maidens within its
borders always as careful as they might be to preserve these good gifts of
THE WELLESLEY MAGAZINE. 437
Nothing can be more charming than the gleam of white birches — those
"most shy and ladylike of trees" — among dark wintry boughs, or green
leaves, and they have hitherto added much to the convenient loveliness of
Tupelo. But the dark, unsightly blotches which have, within the last year
or two, appeared in such numbers on the fair white trunks, are a source of
real pain, not to say exasperation, to all who enjoy the place for its own sake.
I make a plea for the few birch trees which yet remain untouched by
the knife of the souvenir fiend, and beg, in the name of the community at
large, that they be let alone. Of course it is convenient to run down and
secure a bit of bark for a birthday greeting or the like, but, is it not a case
of the ' ' greatest good to the greatest numbers ? " and does the pleasure of the
moment to the few compensate for the years of disfigurement on which so
many must look ?
I should like to add that it seems a great pity we can ever permit our-
selves to countenance this sort of vivisection in any case, even in the remote
woods and mountains. It surely would be a more lasting satisfaction to
carry away from our summer outing, in true Wordsworth fashion, a vision
of the perfect white loveliness, rather than to bear off in our trunks rolls of
birch bark, with the seldom fulfilled intention of napkin rings, frames,
baskets, and such trifles, which cause a momentary glow of satisfaction and
then serve as one more dust bearer.
There are many circumstances in Wellesley life that tend to give the
Wellesley girl a truer appreciation of the value of time than she ever had
before. She learns to look upon a five minutes' extension of the time
between breakfast and chapel as a precious addition to her day, and she finds
that the half hour from 1.00 to 1.30 is not to be despised. Office hours
teach her that this commodity is quite as valuable to others as to herself.
It seems strange to her that this keen appreciation of hers is not shared
by all other members of the College. After waiting in vain for three half
hours on three different occasions to see Professor Blank "in office hours,"
she is forced to the conclusion that Professor Blank does not regard the time
of a college girl of great importance. She goes out to another building on a
438 THE WELLE SEE Y MAGAZINE.
cold, stormy day to consult her instructor on a point of some importance to
her, and finds that her instructor has not thought it necessary to brave the
storm for the sake of keeping an appointment with the one or two girls who
might wish to see her.
After several such experiences — for it may happen that she needs to
consult those who think the keeping of office hours is unimportant — it is not
altogether surprising if she cause them inconvenience by trying to interview
them in the corridor, on the stairs, or after class.
L. B., '95.
At this time of year, when all Wellesley people are worn with the
year's work, it becomes a matter not only of interest, but of necessity, for
each student to consider ways and means of lightening the strain. Now, the
possibility of easing the burden does not always lie with the student, but
there is one matter which each student could, if she would, regulate for her-
self, — she could keep her room free from purposeless and time-wasting
visitors. It is sad indeed to hear a student complain that a " Please do not
knock " sign is ignored by her friend. Surely a few words of courteous but
firm dismissal would prevent a second intrusion by the same person, and in
time the custom of observing such notices would be established ; for college
girls, although often thoughtless, are quick to respect the honestly-expressed
wishes of their friends. There is a time for everything ; but the time which
we have set apart for study or much-needed rest, the time, moreover, when
we have said to the world at large, " Please do not disturb," is not the time
for receiving calls. Can we not then take a firm stand in this matter, and,
by adhering to our principle neither to trespass nor to be trespassed against,
gain for ourselves and our friends time and strength ?
H. M. K, '95.
Since the '95 Magazine Board has retired, and since the '96 Board is
both generous and promising, I think a word of appreciation might without
injury be slipped into the Free Press by one who has had almost nothing to
do with the Magazine in any capacity. The Magazine of the past year has,
THE WELLESLEY MAGAZINE. 439
it seems to me, been very readable, not only because the so-called heavy
articles have been on matters in which most of us could be interested, but
also because the long-desired short stories, sketches, and artistic bits of
biography have appeared with gratifying frequency. It is noticeable, too,
that there have been a comparatively large number of contributors, so that
we have not become too familiar and too critical with any one ; and we have
had opportunity to discover that, taken altogether, we can do more than one
kind of writing. The Free Press has made us talk, even think a little,
although it has not been as fierce as it might have been if we had had other
things than lunch stands and the racket in the library to get excited over.
The Free Press is our own department, however, not the Board's ; and if we
do not have energy enough to look about us and write up what we see, the
loss, too, is ours. Altogether, the Magazine of the past year has seemed
especially good, not only to the writer, but, as she has had excellent oppor-
tunity to discover, to many other of its readers.
J. P., '96.
Lake Waban, long free, is dancing gaily in the sunshine ; the campus
has turned from brown to a rich dark green, and the air is tremulous with
the chatter and whir of busy birds. He who runs may read and rejoice over
the signs of new life on every hand. Even the industrious reviewer, for a
time deaf to the robin's call and blind to all outdoor temptations of bud and
blossom, finds so much of the season's warmth and cheer reflected in the
exchanges before her, that she catches their glad spirit and joins, with a
thrill of delight, in the old, old song, " Spring has come again."
Perhaps it may be partly owing to the uplift of April weather that the
magazines of the month are unusually fresh and readable. The calendar
influence is shown, of course, in the choice of Easter subjects, and in
poetical allusions to "blue skies," "gentle breezes," and "rain-awakened
flowers," but, on the whole, there is an abundance of good, original work to
mark these (in many cases) initial numbers of Ninety-six boards.
The St/racitse Univerisity JSfe/cs is, indeed, a "maiden effort," making
its appearance, for the first time since it was established, as a Woman's
Edition. This is the outcome of a suggestion that such a paper should be
440 THE WELLE 8LEY MAGAZINE.
issued for the benefit of the University Athletic Association ; and the editors
have proved in a remarkably interesting way, the proposition set forth in
their salutatory, that " ' Co-eds' and athletics are not mutually exclusive,"
at least in Syracuse. An article by Belva Lockwood on Genesee life when
she Avas a student there, a brief history of the institution, and sketches of
Society Life, Noted Alumna?, Gala Days, and kindred subjects, together
with attractive cuts of the college buildings, chapter houses, etc., make this
number valuable as a souvenir.
Another special April number is the Dartmouth Literary Montldy,
which is given up entirely to alumni. Aside from an appreciative study of
" The Influence of George William Curtis on American Life," the most
noteworthy contribution is the poem " Success," by Wilder Dwight Quint.
We quote the first and last stanzas : —
The great gods trample the fruit of chance into a vintage rare,
And a maddening stream comes trickling down to mortals struggling there.
Few indeed are the drops that fall from that wine-press red as blood,
But to gain one taste of such drink divine men battle in filth and mud.
The great gods smile with pitying scorn at the wrangling, sweating crew.
With mocking sloth their vintage tread, and the rearing cups bestrew.
Few indeed are the drops that fall, yet each falls by design;
For men may battle in filth and mud, but the gods allot their wine.
The new Minnesota Magazine fulfils in its second number all that it
promised in the first. Its illustrations are notably good, and the general
make-up is excellent. The exhaustive treatise on ' ' The Psycholog} r of
Music," by Dr. W. X. Sudduth, is a very scholarly production. W. Oakley
Stout's serial poem is also worthy of mention, although "Raljah's Revenge"
hardly warrants such an ambitious portrayal.
By far the "heaviest" article of the month is Henry B. Gardner's dis-
cussion of "The Monetary Situation in the United States," in the Broivn
Magazine. In this number, also, a timely plea for " The Cap and Gown"
is advanced by A. R. T. Truex with considerable spirit ; and Martha R.
Clarke, departing from the latter-day model of New England "pastels,''
gives us in " Mere Marette Sorciere," a story with an undisguised moral.
THE WELLESLEY MAGAZINE. 441
An entirely different, but quite as effective, lesson is taught in "A Bold
Bad Man," by Amey O. Aldrich in the Smith College Monthly. Exquisite
humor and suggestive description combine to make this sketch the best we
have seen in the Contributor's Club. A clever account of " The Passing of
John Banks," by N. E. Barnhart, holds one's interest to the end.
Possibly the best short story of the month is "As It Happened," by
Franklin E. Reese, in the Columbia Literary Monthly. This bright college
tale with an ending which is, happily, only the beginning, leaves the reader
in " a sweet maze of pleasant thoughts." It is charming.
"As It Might Have Happened," by E. C. Williams, in the Western
Reserve Magazine, seems to us of almost equal merit with the above from an
artistic standpoint, though there is no resemblance whatever between the
We regret that the Amherst Literary Monthly for April has not yet
reached us. From the March number we clip this fine " Sonnet," by W. J.
Boardman, whose writings, both in prose and verse, are of an exceptionally
high order : —
Compassionate of the wan face upturned
From squalid rags that ill kept out the cold,
I gave, from my scant store of hard-earned gold,
A poor man's alms. Straightway the beggar turned,
And, spitting, cursed my gift so small; he spurned
Me in his rage. I went with bitter ire
And burning heart. When, sweet as new-strung lyre,
Low spoke a voice divine : O Heart unlearned !
The lot of Him the Chosen Nation slew
Was even this, to live for them that railed —
For ingrate, nay, for hating man to die.
Do you complain because this beggar threw
Thy pence aside? For pay had thanks availed.
Giving unthanked, you gave to God on High !
THE OLD LIFE.
Dost thou remember, dear, the old life too,
As I remember — the old apple tree
Wherein the bluebird sang to thee and me,
And the gnarled boughs where the faint lichen grew?
Dost thou remember, dear, the old life too?
As that long surge of planets breaks and runs
442 THE WELLESLEY MAGAZINE.
Back like tossed spray, and the white storm of suns
Swingeth incessant 'twixt this world and you,
So far, so far ! yet from the central skies,
From the remotest calm you speak to me.
My beautiful one not with forgetful eyes
Laughs from those peaks of immortality.
Like a white pearl the little old life lies
Fathomed in that deep eternity.
— Smith College Monthly.
The cold, damp dews of evening slowly fall
Upon the sealed stone and soldier's steel;
No stars relieve the darkness of the night, —
The blackness is a thing almost to feel.
Slowly the hours wear on ; the Roman guard
Tremble, they know not why. Some mighty dread
Falls on their souls. Lo ! from the sealed tomb
What light is this that o'er the scene is shed?
Far in the east an answering gleam replies ;
With mighty fear the craven watchers quake,
As from the tomb and in the glowing east
They watch that first glad Easter morning break.
— Mount Holyoke.
On Saturday evening, April 27, an initiation meeting of the Phi Sigma
Society was held at 7 o'clock. Miss Coolidge, first-year Special, was initiated.
Miss Esther Bailey, '91, and Miss Ethel Stan wood, '94, were present.
The subject of the April programme meeting of the Classical Society
was Euripides, and the programme was as follows : —
I. Introductory paper on Euripides . . Professor Chapin.
II. Scene from Iphigenia in Aulis.
Agamemnon . . . Helen el. Stimpson.
Clytemnestra . . . Anna Chute.
Iphigenia .... Margaret B. Simmons.
Messenger .... Edith D. Dexter.
THE WELLESLEY MAGAZINE.
On Friday, April 19, Miss Chute and Miss Stimpson entertained the
Society at Wood.
The regular programme meeting of the Shakespeare Society was held in
Shakespeare Hall, Saturday evening, April 27. The subject of the evening's
study was "Romeo and Juliet." The programme consisted of: —
I. Shakespeare News ....
II. Verona in the Fourteenth Century
III. The Montagues and Capulets
IV. Dramatic Representation : Act I. Scene
V. Talk : The Poetic Beauty in Romeo
and Juliet ....
VI. The Wit and Humor of the Play (Nurse
VII. Dramatic Representation : Act II. Scene
Alice W. Hunt.
The regular programme meeting of Society Zeta Alpha was held Saturday
evening, April 13, with the following programme : —
Settlement of the West .... Helen Dennis.
The Indians .....
The Mormons .....
Western life as seen in Bret Harte
Picturesque bits of Southern California
The regular meeting of the Agora was held April 27. The impromptu
speeches were : The Difficulty between England and Nicaragua, Alice Howe ;
The Attitude of the European Powers toward the China-Japan Treaty, Belinda
Bogardus ; The New Speaker of the House of Commons. The following
programme was presented : —
The Tenement House .... Professor Coman.
Rescue Work ...... Arlinc Smith.
The Tramp and Out-of-work Problem . Cora Stoddard.
THE WELLESLEY MAGAZINE.
A regular meeting of Tau Zeta Epsilon was held on April 27. Miss
Mary Jauch, Special, was received into the Society. The following
programme was presented : —
Origin and Aims of the Pre-Raphaelite
The Art Work of Sir John Millais
The Art Work of William Hohnan Hunt
Miss Ruby Bridgman, '94, was present at the meeting.
Saturday, May 4. — Reading in afternoon. Concert.
Sunday, May 5. — Rev. C. W. Park. Rev. George E. Taylor (evening).
Monday, May 6. — Lecture. Rev. Frederic Allen.
Saturday, May 11. — Lecture. Miss Peck.
Sunday, May 12. — Bishop Lawrence.
Monday, May 13. — Lecture. Miss Peck.
Sunday, May 19. — Rev. J. D. Pickles.
Monday, May 20. — Concert.
Sunday, May 26. — Rev. P. S. Moxom.
Monday, May 27. — Glee Club Concert.
On April 13, Dr. Edward Everett Hale read in the chapel at 4.15 from
his best-known work, " The Man Without a Country." In the evening the
members of Miss Hart's classes in Freshman Rhetoric, and other invited
guests, had the pleasure of meeting Dr. Hale in the Faculty Parlor.
Easter Sunday, President Andrews, of Brown, preached in the chapel.
THE WELLE SLEY MAGAZINE. 445
Miss Ida Benfey, of New York, read in the college chapel on Monday
evening, April 15. Her selections comprised the story of Jean Valjean
from " Les Miserables," Miss Wilkins' "Village Singer," and a short
numerous reading. Miss Benfey made her audience feel that she was com-
pletely mistress of her art, and delineated character with singular precision
We are interested to learn that Miss Elva Young, '96, is editing a book
of songs of Women's Colleges. The want of a book of this nature has long
been felt, and we wish Miss Young the support and success her undertaking
Patriots' Day was not celebrated officially at the College, except by the
appropriate singing of "America," at prayers. Some members of the
bicycle club made the perfect weather and the holiday an excuse for a long
ride ; several parties of determined-looking pedestrians were observed
wending their way toward ' ' Pegan Hill " and other points of interest ;
some patriotic members of the College, we understand, visited Concord and
Lexington ; while some, woful tale, celebrated their holiday in the library.
Miss Josephine Batchelder has been chosen editor in chief of The
Wellesley Magazine, to fill the place left vacant by the resignation of
Miss McLean. Miss Hefferan has been chosen associate editor in place of
Miss Currier gave a reception to the members of the department of
Elocution Saturday afternoon, April 20.
Saturday evening, April 20, Professor Churchill gave a reading in the
chapel. His programme was varied and interesting, comprising selections
from Dickens, Mrs. Stowe, and Browning. The evening was extremely
interesting and amusing as well to those who had heard Professor Churchill
before as to those to whom it was a new experience. He has the rare
faculty of making the scenes which he presents live before his audience.
Mr. Ferguson, of Cohasset, preached in the chapel Sunday morning,
446 THE WELLESLEY MAGAZINE.
Sunday evening Rev. Thomas Gulick spoke in the chapel on the McAll
Miss Clara Nichols, formerly of '95, was at college April 20. Miss
Nichols intends to resume her work next year.
Rumor hints that the personnel of the College will consist of the usual
number of students next year, but no Faculty. Each day brings rumor
of some professor or instructor who is to be absent. The bereaved
undergraduate can only comfort herself with the thought that it cannot
all be true.
Miss Gail Laughlin, '94, is to be with us once more, though not of us.
Miss Laughlin intends to live in the village during the spring, still continuing
her work in Boston.
Monday evening, April 22, the Shakespeare Society was received at
Wood. A guest writes : "The hospitable doors of Wood were thrown wide
on the evening of April 22 to welcome the Shakespeare Society and its guests
to their birthday celebration. Assuredly the great master's festival was right
royally kept, with play and players, feasting and jollity, and many a dainty
gift. The society rejoiced in the presence of many of its alumnae members,
Miss Hodgkins being the guest of honor of the occasion. Toasts were pro-
posed and responded to, and the evening ended with the hearty Shakespeare
cheer, and many expressions of ' What a good time it has been ! ' '
On the same evening a most enjoyable concert was given in the chapel
by Miss Estelle Andrews, of the School of Music, assisted by Max Heinrich
and Carl Faelten.
The Saturday afternoon lectures on current topics were brought to a
close April 27, by a lecture by Mr. E. Charlton Black, of Cambridge, on
" James Barrie." Mr. Black's charm as a lecturer, we learned, had not been
exaggerated by report, and all who were able to attend enjoyed the hour ex-
tremely. This lecture seemed a fitting close for a course which has been so
delightful and instructive in all its features.
THE WELLE SLEY MAGAZINE. 447
On Saturday evening, April 27th, the Literature Department gave an in-
formal reception in honor of Miss Scudder, who has just returned from Italy
after more than a year's absence. Miss Scudder spent a month in London
just before she sailed, and gave a most delightful talk upon the social move-
ments in England, and the leaders of the several parties. It is good news to
all old students who have known Miss Scudder that she will resume her work
at the College next year.
Mr. John Graham Brook lectured in the chapel Saturday evening upon
the "Norwegian System."
Sunday, April 28, we had the pleasure of welcoming once more to
Wellesley, President Hyde, of Bowdoin. President Hyde preached in the
morning, and spoke to the Class of '96 in the evening.
The Senior prayer meeting was addressed Sunday evening by Miss
The March meeting of the St. Louis Wellesley Association was held at
the home of the Misses Vieths, 4482 Lindell Boulevard, Saturday, March
2. Miss Anna Vieths was in charge of the programme for the afternoon, the
subject being "The American Woman in Music." This was the fifth literary
meeting of the year. The subjects of the preceding meetings have been :
The American Woman in Art ; in Poetry ; in Prose ; in Philanthropic Work.
At the February meeting, when papers on "The American Woman in Phil-
anthropic Work " were read, Miss Annie Bronson King, the head worker at
the Lucy House, the St. Louis social settlement, gave an informal talk of
much interest concerning settlement work. Although the character of the
meetings is social and literary, a no less important feature of the work is the
raising of a fund whereby a St. Louis girl may be sent to Wellesley.
The Wellesley Club of New York was entertained Saturday, April 20,
by Mrs. Frances Pearsons Plimpton, at her home, 125 East 35th Street.
The annual election of officers took place, resulting as follows : President,
448 THE WELLESLEY MAGAZINE.
Bertha Bailey, '88 ; Vice President, Grace Underwood, '92 ; Secretary, Effie
Banta, '91 ; Treasurer, Caroline Raven, '86-88 ; Executive Committee,
Mrs. Mary Edwards Twitchell, '89; Mrs. .Anna Phillips See, '86; Miss
Marie Jadwin, '84-86 ; Reception Committee, Mrs. Minnie Lyman Hitchings,
'76-77; Miss Dora Emerson, '92; Miss Caroline Randolph, '94. The
annual luncheon of the Club will be held Saturday, May 11, at the Plaza
Hotel, Fifty-Ninth Street. Among the guests of the Club at that time will
be : Mrs. Irvine of Wellesley, Bishop Potter of New York, and Mr. Hamil-
ton W. Mabie of the Outlook. It is hoped that there may be a full represen-
tation of the Club and its friends.
In Albany, March 23, at the home of Miss N. M. Pond, about ten
Wellesley girls met to form a Wellesley Club. It was voted to call the club
the Eastern New York Wellesley Club. The officers elected were as follows :
President, Elizabeth Stewart ; Secretary, Myrtilla Avery ; Treasurer, Emeline
S. Bennett. It was voted to have an annual meeting in the form of a lunch-
eon, and that other meetings be subject to call. On Saturday, April 6,
the first annual luncheon was held in Albany at Hotel Kenmore. , Covers
were laid for twenty-four. After the luncheon, the president and toast-
mistress, Miss Stewart, arose and welcomed the members. She gave a brief
account of the formation of the Club, and also explained its object, which is
to be purely social. The toast list, as given below, was announced by Miss
Stewart, and responded to by the college girls : —
"These are idle fancies of the brain
Not worthy of thy thought."
"Nay, my good lord, these be such things
As sages think upon." — Shakespere.
Signs of the Times Miss Davidson.
" Ring out the old, ring in the new." — Tennyson.
Wellesley's President Miss Brooks.
" The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength and skill." — W'ordswurlh.
THE WELLESLEY MAGAZINE. 449
The Class of 95 Miss Hyatt. '
" Look on the life whose record is unrolled." — Holmes.
College Athletics ....... Miss Avery.
" Oh, 'tis excellent to have a giant's strength!" — Shakespere.
The College Girl in Society ..... Miss Jones.
" What will Mrs. Grundy say?" — Morton.
The Wellesley Summer School ..... Miss Eastman.
"Let knowledge grow from more to more
That mind and soul, according well,
May make one music as before,
But vaster." — Tennyson.
Alma Mater Miss Pond.
"All hail to the College Beautiful!
All hail to the Wellesley Blue! " — K. L. Bates, '80.
The Wellesley Cheer Mrs. Dewey.
" Over the grass and flowers and waves, wake sounds
Sweet as a surging rain of silver dew." — Shelley.
"Welcome ever smiles,
And farewell goes out sighing." — Shakespere.
Since the Club was organized, forty Wellesley girls of Albany and
vicinity have become members, and those who were present at the luncheon
were as follows : Mrs. Melvil Dewey, Mrs. Winifred Edgerton Merrill,
Mrs. Peirson, Miss Linda Puffer, Miss Synder, Miss Ada Alice Jones, Miss
N. M. Pond, Miss Van Epps, Miss Biscoe, Miss H. St. B. Brooks, Miss
Janet Davidson, Miss May Millard, Miss Grace Eastman, Miss May East-
man, Miss Grace Betteridge, Miss Myrtilla Avery, Miss Elizabeth Stewart,
Miss Emeline Bennett, Miss Yates, Miss Bertha Hyatt, Miss Huestcd, Miss
Harwood, Miss Florence L. Ellery.
450 THE WELLESLEY MAGAZINE.
The Wellesley Alumna? Chapter of the College Settlements Association
will meet on Commencement morning at 9.30, sharp, in Room D, Main
Building. All alumna?, former students, officers, or teachers of the College,
whether members of the Chapter or not, are invited most cordially to be
Caroline L. Williamson, '89,
Grace Andrews, '89,
Secretary and Treasurer.
The Vice Electors of the Wellesley Alumna? Chapter of the College
Settlements Association are : —
Miss Annie S. Montague, '79, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass.
Mrs. Sarah Woodman Paul, '81, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass.
Miss Alice M. Allen, '85, Dana Hall, Wellesley, Mass.
Miss Susan Peabody, '86, 105 Washington Avenue, Evansville, Indiana.
Miss Catharine Burrowes, '87, Monticello Seminary, Godfrey, 111.
Miss May Estelle Cook, '88, 721 Walnut Street, Oak Park, 111.
Miss Calista McCauley, '88, 349 Monroe Avenue, Rochester, N. Y.
Miss Katharine Horton, '89, Windsor Locks, Conn.
Miss Mary Lauderburn, '90, Wellesley, Mass.
Mrs. Mary Young Allison, '90, 1535 Fourth Avenue, Louisville, Ky.
Mrs. Mabel Godfrey Swormstedt, '90, 1455 Fourteenth Street, N. W.,
Washington, D. C.
Miss Ada S. Woolfolk, '91, 95 Rivington Street, New York City, N. Y.
Miss Dora Emerson, '92, 222 West Twenty-third Street, New York
City, N. Y.
Miss Lydia O. Pennington, '93, 2030 Euclid Avenue, Cleveland, Ohio.
Miss Helen Foss, '94, 2043 Arch Street, Philadelphia, Pa.
Miss Helen Drake, '94, 93 Tyler Street, Boston, Mass.
Miss Mary Isham, '94.
These electors are chosen with reference to organizing and promoting
the work in classes, and also in localities. A Vice Elector is in close
proximity to every large Wellesley Club, and there is an especial concen-
THE WELLE 'SLE Y MAGAZINE. 451
tration of forces in the vicinity of Wellesley and Boston for the sake of
bringing the College and the nearest settlement into closer relations. Money
may be forwarded through them to the General Association.
Alumnpe present at the Shakespeare birthday celebration, Monday,
April 22, were Miss Sanborn, '84; Miss Bigelow, Miss Hall, and Miss
Allen, '85 ; Miss E. Green, Miss C. Green, Miss Hardon, and Miss Stimp-
son, '92 ; Miss Anderson, '94 ; Miss Evans, Mrs. Rothery.
Miss M. Anna Fuller, '84, is teaching in the High School, North Adams,
Miss Esther Bailey, '91, spent Sunday, April 28, at the College. Miss
Bailey is teaching in the High School, Somerville, Mass.
Miss Sarah H. Conant, '87, is teaching in the High School, Circleville,
Miss Margaret Crownshielcl, '87, is teaching in a private school, 22 East
54th Street, New York, and is studying psychology in the University School
Miss Clara B. Mowry, '89, is teaching in the High School, Melrose, Mass.
Miss Caroline Williamson, '89, has been spending a few weeks at the
New York College Settlement.
Miss Sarah M. Bock, '90, has been visiting Mrs. Etta Parker Park, '90,
at her home in Stoneham, Mass. One day was given up to a small reunion
of '90 girls, including Miss Annie Smith, who is studying at Tufts Medical
School, and Mrs. May Tyler Jones. Another day was spent with Mrs. Jones
,at her home in Wakefield, and another with Mrs. Blanche Whitlock Carlton
at her home in Andover, Mass.
Miss Mary Martin Yardley, '90, holds a position in Rowland Hall, Salt
Lake City, Utah.
Miss Elizabeth E. Morse, School of Ai-t, '91, has accepted a position to
teach Art in Murdoch School, Winchendon, Mass. She will also have charge
of drawing in the public schools the present term.
452 THE WELLE SLEY MAGAZINE.
Miss Alice Stevens, '91, was at the College April 27.
Miss Blanche L. Clay, '92, visited the College April 11. Miss Clay is
taking a course in literary expression under a New York instructor.
Miss Bessie Greenman, '92, is teaching in the Arlington, Mass., High
Miss Josephine Emerson, '92, visited the College April 19 and 20.
Miss Eliza Bateman, '94, is teaching in the Bromfield School, Harvard,
Miss Clara M. Kruse, '94, is teaching in the public schools, Central City,
Miss Caroline W. Field, '94, is teaching in the High School, Bellast,
Miss Bertha C. Jackson, '94, is teaching in the High School, Cuimning-
Miss Mabel W. Learoyd, '94, is teaching Latin and Mathematics in
McLean Seminary, Simsbury, Conn.
Miss Delia Smith, '94, has resigned her position at Moingona, and is
now deputy in the post office, Boone, Iowa.
Miss Mary Clemmer Tracy, '94, is teaching in the public school, West
PHILADELPHIA COLLEOE SETTLEMENT.
The first issue of the Coller/e Settlement News appeared April, 1895.
The first aim of the paper will be to cater to the interests of the different
settlement clubs. Each month there will be given a short summary of the
work of the preceding month, announcements of meetings, entertainments,
THE WELLESLEY MAGAZINE. 453
club nights, etc., descriptive articles of new lines of work to be undertaken,
and any information that might prove interesting to its readers. Club mem-
bers are invited to send in contributions of short articles, and from these the
best will be selected for publication. If any special capacity should be
shown by any of the members in the line of literary efforts, such a member
will be invited to participate in its editing. The April number contains, in
addition to announcements, an account of the Starr Garden Park and the
prospective Kitchen. The price of this paper is fifty cents a year; single
copies five cents.
The dramatic presentation of Mary E. Wilkins' story, "A Gala Dress,"
given by three Wellesley girls at Denison House, April 18, was greatly en-
joyed by both neighbors and residents. The parts were excellently well
taken by Miss Willis, Miss Brown, and Miss Blanchard, and the old-fashioned
costumes were also much admired.
The "spring fever" has attacked Tyler Street. The children are draw-
ing their pennies out of the Stamps Savings Bank to purchase bats and balls,
hoops and jumping ropes, and the attendance at the clubs is falling off as
the fascination of the streets returns with the warm weather. Even in this
unfavorable region of brick walls and pavements the new life of the year
makes itself felt, and the longing to have part in it draws old and young out-
of-doors. You dwellers among green fields, is there no part of your spring
you can share with us? The fare to Wellesley is only fourteen cents now,
and a few hours in Wellesley's woods and beside Wellesley's lake would be
a long-remembered pleasure to many a town-tired neighbor of Denison
The South End Free Art Exhibition, on Washington Street, near the cor-
ner of Dover, opened Friday, April 19, with eleven hundred visitors. There
are many fine pictures in the exhibition, among them two by Greuze, two by
Verestchagin, one attributed to Perugino, two landscapes by Claude Monet,
the large picture of the bow of an Atlantic steamship, by Albert Munsell,
and a nocturnal marine piece by Ross Turner. The most remarkable paint-
ing in the collection is George De Forest Brush's new Madonna and Child,
loaned by Mrs. J. Montgomery Sears.
454 THE WELLE8LEY MAGAZINE.
COLLEGE SETTLEMENT, 95 RIVINGTOjST STREET.
The robin picture has been taken out of the closet, where it spent the
long winter, and put back again in its old place on the wall, and the kinder-
garten children know that spring has come. Even in Rivington Street the
spring has a magic of its own ; the children felt it in those first sunny days,
even before the winter's chill was gone, and demanded songs and stories
about birds and flowers.
Yard day has begun again, and every Saturday morning finds the Settle-
ment yard full of happy children, reveling in the generous possibilities of a
sand pile, the joys of mud pies, or the inexhaustible delight of swinging and
Several new cooking classes and a class in drawing under very compe-
tent teachers have been started recently. Twice during the past month
informal lectures have been given before the residents by a friend of the
Settlement, who is in close touch with the labor movement. The subjects
of the lectures were : " The Coming Social Revolution," and " The Doctrines
The engagement of Miss Emily Stewart, '92, is announced.
Miss Clara Helmer, '93, is taking courses in History with Professor von
Holzt, at the University of Chicago.
Miss Harriet Blake, '94, is president of an art society in Philadelphia.
Miss Marion Canfield, '94, has organized a banjo club in the school in
which she teaches, Garden City, L. I.
Miss Lydia Pennington is engaged in philanthropic work in Cleveland.
Miss Margaret Doolittle, formerly of '93, is teaching at Gambier, O.
Miss Elizabeth White, '93, is teaching in Evanston, 111.
Miss May Lemer, '93, is teaching at her home in Harrisburgh.
Miss Ora Slater, '93, spent Sunday, March 24, at the College.
Miss Marion Mitchell played for the Wellesley Hills Woman's Club,
THE WELLE SLEY MAGAZINE. 455
Miss Gertrude Angell, '94, has been visiting Miss Campbell, '94, in
Washington, Miss Foss, '94, and Miss Blake, '94, in Philadelphia, Miss Helen
Drake in Boston, and spent the last days of the term at Wellesley on her way
The address of Mrs. Ellen Brooks Beaver is Mrs. Wm. P. Beaver, New
Miss Harriet Merrow, '86, is teaching in the State Agricultural College,
Kingston, P. I.
Miss Nancy C. George, '88, is teaching in the High School, Woburn,
Miss Cornelia Stinson, '90, is at home, 4436 Drexel Boulevard, Chicago,
Miss Esther Bailey, '91, is teaching in the Somerville, Mass., High
Miss Jane M. Furber, '92, is studying kindergarten in Boston.
Miss Sarah P. Williams, '92, is Preceptress of the Little Falls Academy,
Little Falls, N. Y.
Miss Mary R. De Vou, '92, in addition to her work in the New Century
Club and the Working Girls' Club, spends Tuesdays in teaching at the
Froebel House, Wilmington, Del.
Miss Louise Cook, '94, is teaching in the High School, Brooklyn,
Miss Caroline Field, '94, is teaching in Belfast, Me.
Miss Stella M. Osgood, '94, is teaching at Gilmanton Iron Works,
Miss M. Grace Stone, '94, is teaching in Paris Classical Institute, Paris,
456 THE WELLESLET MAGAZINE.
Hockenberry-Hemperly. — At Myerstown, Penn., June 27, 1894,
Miss M. Amelia Hemperly, '81, to Mr. J. C. Hockenbeny, Superintendent
of Public Schools at South Chester, Penn. Mr. and Mrs. Hockenbeny sailed
June 28 for Jena, Germany, where Mr. Hockenbeny is spending a year's
leave of absence in the study of Pedagogics.
Mall-Glover. — On Thursday, March 28, Dr. Franklin P. Mall to
Mabel Stanley Glover, '92. Dr. and Mrs. Mall will spend some time in
Germany during their vacation.
August 10, 1894, a daughter, Helen Farnsworth, to Harriet Farnsworth
January 26, 1895, a daughter, Dorothy, to Mrs. Alice Day Kuntz, '87.
April 15, 1895, at Arlington, Mass., to Mrs. Lena Brown Preston, '90,
At Arlington, Mass., Saturday, April 27, 1895, Lena Brown Preston,
Jameson & Knowles Company,
LEADING STYLES IN
Boots, Shoes, and
Specialties: Custom "Work, Party Shoes
No. 15 Winter Street, Boston,
U. S. A.
H. H. CARTER & CO.
Stationers & Engravers
20 per cent Discount
Made by Wellesley College Students.
No. 3 Beacon Street,
R attention is called to our stock of
Gold and Silver Stick Pins !
Birthday Gifts !
Souvenir Spoons, Souvenir Cups,
Toilet and Desk Furnishings in Sterling and Plated Silver; Marble and Iron Clocks, $6.00 to $20.00.
Stock in all departments always complete.
A. StOWell & Co., 24 Winter Street, Boston.
Cotrell & Leonard
American . .
Illustrated . . .
Artists' Materials . . .
g-K Drafting Instruments.
Art Studies and Books.
Oil and Water Colors, Crayons, Materials
For Tapestry, Painting, etc.
Wadsworth, Howland & Co.
82 and 84 Washington Street, Boston.
Branch Store in the
Grundmann Studios, Clarendon Street,
Near St. James Avenue.
Principal Factories .....
Maiden, Mass., and South Paris, Maine.
Mackintoshes and Cravenettes,
WALNUT HILL SCHOOL.
$2.00 TO $25.00.
Prices 25 per cent lower than Dry Goods Stores.
. . . Special IO per cent to Wellesley Students . . .
RUBBER GOODS OF EVERY DESCRIPTION.
Metropolitan Rubber Co.,
Miss Charlotte H. Conant, B.A.
CLEAVE & KRIM,
Miss Florence Bigelow, M.A.
49 SUMMER STREET. BOSTON.
Gloves and Veiling.
MISS M. F. FISK,
44 TEMPLE PLACE,
Calls the attention of the Young Ladies to her stock of Kid, Undressed Kid, and Dog Skin Gloves that
are suitable for all occasions, also her very becoming stock of Veilings, and solicits their
patronage, and will give to any of the students 6 per cent discount.
17 TO 23 BEACON STREET . . BOSTON.
LAWRENCE, WILDE & CO.,
Manufacturers of First-class
Special attention given to Club Dinners and Receptions.
RATES FROM $1 TO $5 PER DM.
TWO FIRST-CLASS CRFES IN HOTEL.
Nos. 38 to 48 Cornhill,
GEO. B. DAKROW. RO^XTlIN]
CHAS. P. DVEK. • • • IJV-'O 1 WM^
in all Departments
can be found at our store. The largest
assortment in Boston of the popular and
standard authors. Also a large variety
at special reductions. Large variety of
Bibles, Prayer Books, Booklets, etc.
We are noted for low prices.
UE WOLFE, FISKE & CO.,
The Archway Bookstore,
361 tfi 365 WASHINGTON ST., BOSTON.
Shreve. Crump I Low Go.
Jewelers «? Silversmith
147 TREMONT STREET, CORNER OF WEST.
Fine Stationery. Card Engraving.
Programs and Invitations, both printed and
engraved. Class Day Progams a specialty.
Class Pins designed and manufactured to
Parasols and Umbrellas made to order, re-
covered and repaired.
FINEST ROADBED ON THE CONTINENT.
. .ONLY. .
First Class TUmfi Gar
TO THE WEST.
Through Trains Leave Boston as follows : —
8.30 a. m. (ex. Sunday) Day Express.
10.30 a. m. (daily) Chicago Special.
2.00 p.m. (daily) North Shore Limited.
3.00 p. m. (ex. Sundays) St. Louis and
7.15 p. m. (daily) Pacific Express.
Hartford, New Havens New York.
ABBrVE NEW YOBK.
9.00 a. m.
(ex. Sunday) 3.30 p. m.
11.00 a. m.
(ex. Sunday) 5.30 p. m.
4.00 p. m.
(daily) 10.00 p.m.
11.00 p. m.
(daily) 6.41 a. m.
information, time-tables, etc., applv
nearest ticket agent.
A. S. HANSON,
General Passenger Agent.
WRIGHT & BITSON.
New Tennis Catalogue is free; now ready, and will
be sent to any address.
Our General Athletic Catalogue will be issued
Special rates to Wellesley Students.
WRIGHT & DITSON,
No. 344 Washington Street,
HE/N-Ry C HASKELL
11 John Street, /New t|ork,
Designer and Maker
Jewels of every
MEDALS — Trophies for presentation, from original
and artistic designs. Special designs, with esti-
mates, furnished on application. Inquiries by
mail promptly attended to. We send design
plates FREE upon request.
Wellesley Pins can be obtained from Miss Eliz-
abeth Stark, Business Manager of Magazine.
The Dana Hall School,
Pupils are prepared for regular or for special courses at
Price for Board and Tuition, $500 for the school year;
Tuition for day pupils, $125.
For further information address the Principals :
Julia A. Eastman,
Sarah P. Eastman.
CHARLES W. PERRY,
CUTTER & CUTTER,
Trunks and Bags,
Pure Drugs and Medicines.
No. 22 Chauncy Street,
Physicians' Perscriptions a Specialty.
DISCOUNT TO WELLESLEY STUDENTS.
DAINTY EFFECTS IN-
Universally used as a decoration for
Colored Teas and Truncheons.
Twice as effective, equally as durable
and half as expensive as Silk or Crepe
Thirty different shades in rolls ten
feet long and twenty and a half inches
Price per roll, 30 Cents.
3So. 28 Franklin Street, Boston.
For Fine Millinery
Visit . . .
GEORGE M. WETHERN
No. 21 Temple Place,
The Senior Class Photographer
is . . .
Charles W. Hearn,
No. 392 Boylston Street,
Arrange dates with the Senior Class Photograph
Miss Bertha Morrill.
Miss Caroline Jacobus.
Miss Sophie Voorhees.
Also Photographer to
Corns. 25 cents:
plaster for tender feet, 25cts.
Ladies' and Gentlemen's rooms
13 WINTER STREET.
Amherst College .
Mt. Holyoke College .
B. U. College of Liberal Arts
SU The Standard for All.
Highest Quality of All.
Have you feasted your eyes upon
the beauty and grace of the 1895
Columbias ? Have you tested and
compared them with all others ?
Only by such testing can you know
how fully the Columbia justifies its
proud title of the : 'Standard for the
World." Any model or equipment
your taste may require, $ J QQ
An Art Catalogue of these
famous wheelsand of Hart-
fords, $80 $60, free at Colum-
bia agencies, or mailed for
two 2-cent stamps.
Leonard N. Howe, D.M.D.
Corner Boylston and Tremont Streets,
Late Instructor of Operative and Surgical
Dentistry in Harvard University.
Office Hours, 9 A. M. to 5 P. M.
Oculists' prescriptions correctly filled.
Glasses carefully fitted and adjusted to
insure nose comfort.
Ten per cent discount to
All kinds of spectacle repairing neatly executed.
CHARLES W. HURLL, Jr., Practical Optician,
409 Washington St., (between Winter and Bromfield Sts.)
•••Kine Carpets- ••
the finest line of specialties in
AXMINSTERS, WILTONS, AND BRUSSELS CARPETS
ever offered by us. these are all our patterns, with a full line
of the famous london furnisher,
William Morris's Patterns in Carpets and Hammersmith Rugs.
We feel that our Fall Stock will bear the Closest Inspection.
Joel Goldthwait & Company,
Nos. 163 to 169 Washington Street, Boston.
OIV MAY 15th we shall open the largest
and most complete line of Ladies' Iiaundried
and rnlaundried Shirt Waists ever shown in
this -vicinity, at as low prices as same can be
found in Boston.
10 per cent discount on Waists to Wellesley
J. B. LEAMY, Walcott Building;, NATICK, flASS.
WOMAN'S MEDICAL COLLEGE
NEW YORK INFIRMARY.
Session '94.-9$ opens October 1, 1894. Four years, Graded Course. Instruction
by Lectures, Clinics, Recitations and practical work, under supervision in Laboratories
and Dispensary of College, and in U. S. Infirmary. Clinics and operations in most of
the City Hospitals and Dispensaries open to Women Students.
For Catalogues, etc., address
EMILY BLACKWELL, M. D.,
321 East 15th Street, New York.
She : When we got our wheels last year we didn't suppose
there could be any better ones, did we ?
He : No ; but the '95's are ahead of them. They are
lighter, and at the same time stronger, because of the new
She : The saddles are more comfortable than ever before.
He : Yes, and the wheels are safer, too. The guards,
rubber pedals, foot rests, and brake work make them models
for safety and comfort.
She : And is it true that the price has been reduced when
the wheels are so much improved ?
He: Yes; the company has established the standard
price at $100, which must insure a tremendous increase in
the number used.
DOMINICK DUCKETT, Agbnt.
AND INSTRUCTOR IN RIDING.
Free Instruction to purchasers.
All orders promptly executed.
Catalogues free on application.
TP fti to pcsde.
0/ ifrwrt&r' n^e
In every department of our store we allow Wellesley
Professors and Students a discount,
generally 10 per cent.
During the year you will notice many attractive goods which your friends at home
would be glad to see. We shall be glad to send samples at your request.
Dress Goods, Hosiery, Neckwear, Millinery,
Underwear and Art Embroideries
are perhaps some of the departments most interesting to students, but the discount applies
to every department.
R. H. STEARNS & CO.,
Tremont Street and Temple Place - - BOSTON, MASS.
Formerly Designer for Celeste.
IMPORTER AND DESIGNER OF
RICH AND ARTISTIC
In Attractive and Exclusive Designs specially
adapted for young ladies, and not to
be found elsewhere.
LATEST ENGLISH and NEW YORK WALK-
ING HATS, SAILORS, and ODD TURBAN
SHAPES, constantly received and at
VERY REASONABLE PRICES.
A DISCOUNT OF 10 PER CENT ALLOWED TO
PROFESSORS AND STUDENTS.
ALLAND, 112 Tremont Street,
Under Studio Building, Boston.
146 Tremont Street, Boston.
863'Broadway, 3*J. Y.
Pure, Fresh, and Delicious
A Choice Selection of Fancy Baskets,
Boxes, and Bonbonnieres constantly
on hand at very reasonable prices. . .
Mail Orders given Prompt Attention.
Frank Wood, Printer, Botton.